


December Desolation

by Alchemist14



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 56,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alchemist14/pseuds/Alchemist14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The inseparables return from a simple mission with tempers running high, how will they recover from this argument and what affect will it have on Aramis? Read and find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shunning of Aramis

December in Paris was always cold, this year it was even more so with snow coating the ground in a blanket of white. Three Musketeers rode in silence along the woodland path, horses snorting in the cold air great billows of white steam furling from their nostrils. Athos, Porthos and Aramis had just returned from delivering a missive from the King to a rich nobleman in the West requesting his attendance at the Palace.

Curiously, the usually chipper group was travelling in silence with the most noticeable being Aramis, ordinarily they wouldn't make it five feet before he was making some sarcastic remark to make Porthos giggle and Athos curl a lip slightly. Now his hat was in danger of falling off his head with how far forward it was tipped and the silence was cloying in its tension.

"Ah, Athos, Porthos, Aramis!" Treville exclaimed as they reached the Garrison, "you are back, the King wishes his missive delivered to him post haste"

Athos gave a curt nod, pulling on the reins of his horse "We would have been back sooner if not for Aramis" he shot a disgusted look at the moping Musketeer, "I will apologise to the King immediately" With those parting words he turned his horse and made for the palace.

Porthos cast an equally disgusted look at Aramis and dismounted without a word, leading his horse to the Garrisons' stables and beginning the long process of taking care of his equipment. Treville frowned in consternation at the odd behaviour of his Musketeers, he had known them for years and they had been best of friends always, what on earth could have happened to create such hostility. Moving towards the still motionless Aramis he rested a hand on his leg "what happened Aramis?" he asked softly.

"It was nothing" the response was equally as quiet as the question, "I became... distracted momentarily... and Athos was almost hurt" he shrugged off the gentle hand of the captain and turned his own horse to the stables.

The shunning of Aramis continued for the rest of the day, not that he made any attempts to speak with his friends, remaining isolated even at dinner. As the men headed off to bed, Aramis sat on the steps hands clasped tightly together and head hanging miserably. He startled badly as a hand landed on his shoulder, relaxing as he recognised the Captain "Come Aramis, it's time to get some sleep" gripping his arm tightly he pulled his man to his feet, steadying him as he swayed slightly.

Aramis laughed bitterly and wiped a hand across his face, "that's not likely to happen and you know it"

Treville sighed sadly "yes I know, but at least try. I'm willing to bet that _this_ was why you became, how did you put it... Distracted"

A grimace was his only response as they reached Aramis' room and the two men parted ways with a comforting pat to the shoulder. Once alone inside the comforting twilight of his room, Aramis allowed his mask to drop, lines of fatigue appearing on his face and hands shaking lightly. Stripping off the various items of his uniform he slipped under the sheets of his bed and prayed for a peaceful night for once.

It was not to be.

_Mist rose in spiralling tendrils from the ground, casting menacing shadows on the surrounding fields as men lay dead on the battlefield. The screams of wounded men, dying men echoed in his ears as he lay there immobile in the mud. Pain overwhelmed his senses from the gunshot wounds and various scratches that covered his body and soft whimpers escaped his lips as glassy eyes stared off into the middle distance.  
A branch snapping caught his attention, head sluggishly turning to see who was coming, hand inching towards the pistol on his belt. _

_"Marsac?" He whispered in confusion, having expected a Savoy soldier after the ambush they had suffered that morning._

_One trembling hand outstretched, Aramis pleaded for some help, some comfort in this hellish situation from a man he considered a friend and comrade._

_Wide unseeing eyes stared back at him, frozen fingers fumbling with the clasp of his blue cloak, the mark of a Musketeer. Time seemed to stand still as the cloak fluttered through the air, causing ripples of snow to fly up from the ground, the owner of said cloak turning equally as slowly and walking away._

_His brown leathers merged with the darkness of the trees until Aramis could no longer see any part of him, "Marsac, Marsac wait!" he cried fearfully, voice cracking at the thought of being left alone. Feeling his strength desert him his hand fell limply back into the snow and he dimly registered that he could no longer feel the cold._

_'That can't be good' he mused detachedly._

_With the last of his strength he weakly turned his head and immediately wished he hadn't, his whole body trembled, a terrified whimper escaping his lips as fields of dead soldiers filled his vision._

_Dead eyes stared at the sky, mouths open as if they had died screaming in pain, blood drying on blue uniforms and throats as the snow around them was dyed red. Baudin, Bordelon, Durant and Jacques all lay in his line of vision, eyes unseeing and accusing as their lips turned blue and they lay in pools of their own blood never to return to the Garrison._

_"It should have been me" he whispered distraught, "I should have died, not them"_

He woke to the disorienting feeling of falling through the air, flailing arms and legs connected painfully with bedposts and cabinets before he landed with a thud on the floor. The screaming that had filled his ear drums stopped as he groaned with pain and realised with some surprise that the scream had come from his own lips.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, blinking in an attempt to clear his bleary vision he gathered the fallen bedding to his chest burying his head in his knees to hide his tears. Usually when he woke up screaming from a nightmare like that one Porthos was there, sitting in the rickety old chair beside his bed, complaining about his back and threading an arm about his shoulders in comfort.

But not today.

He remained huddled on the floor in the same spot he had fallen, shoulders shaking violently with his sobs until he heard the sounds of men traipsing in for morning muster.

A/N: Yay, I finally got around to writing a Musketeers fanfiction! Don't you just love Aramis? Stay tuned for the next chapter with lots more hurt/comfort and hurt Aramis. Please read and let me know what you think, stay tuned for chapter 2.


	2. Help and Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy chapter two guys! I can't believe how many people like this! Thankyou so much for the responses and I hope to have another chapter soon for you :D

Thirty men were lined up in front of the steps to Treville's office, the man himself leant against the balcony and observed them as they shuffled into some semblance of order, some barely awake for the early hour of morning muster.

He sighed sadly. Make that twenty nine men, the gap between the inseparables was blatantly obvious to anyone who knew them well enough.

Aramis was not there.

Anger began to grow within him, fire flaring in his gut fanned from the embers that had been planted there the previous evening, as he observed the easy camaraderie between three of his best men. Porthos made some lewd joke that had D'artagnan barking out a shocked laugh and landing a punch on the big man's arm, those who did not know Athos would have missed the slight twitch of his lips that indicated his amusement.

They obviously did not care about the absence of one of their brothers, hands balled into fists at his sides Treville raised his voice to be heard above the muttering of his men and the hustle and bustle of the busy Paris streets beyond the Garrison gates.

"Right, everyone is present and correct" he began steadily

"That is incorrect"

Treville blinked, taken aback by the interruption of the cool voice.

"d'Herblay is not here" Athos continued coldly in his bored monotone, gesturing disinterestedly towards the empty space between himself and Porthos.

Gritting his teeth harshly he swallowed the urge to shout at Athos, he had never heard them refer to each other by surname before, a deep breath cooled his temper and he carried on.

"That is none of your concern, now SILENCE" he shouted to quell the whispers of disbelief that raced like wildfire across the grounds, the rest of the Regiment equally as shocked at hearing such a distant mode of address.

"Athos, Porthos, D'artagnan" he carried on calmly "You are on guard duty at the palace… all day"

He ignored the expected complaints from the three, guard duty was a boring but unfortunately necessary duty and although he usually attempted to spare them from it, hopefully it would provide an opportunity for them to think on their actions, and if it had the fortunate side effect of acting as a punishment then who was he to complain?

Once he had distributed all jobs for the day, he dismissed his men but remained leant against the railing of the balcony, watching and waiting for the departure of the last man.

Before the echoes of the last horse's hooves leaving the Garrison had even had a chance to fade, the Captain was in movement rushing down the corridor to the lodgings of his men, desperate to check on Aramis.

Pausing outside his room, he took a calming breath and knocked lightly "Aramis? Is everything alright?"

Upon receiving no reply he quietly turned the handle and made his way into the room, the empty bed was the first thing that grabbed his attention, the rumpled sheets a comfort to his worried mind. His gaze then fell upon the man huddled in upon himself on the floor, head resting on bent knees, curly hair draped across his face in slumber.

Treville felt his heart break at the sorry sight before him, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes as the man he viewed almost as his own son fell apart before his very eyes. He extended a trembling hand slowly, and tenderly brushed the dark hair back off his forehead whispering "Aramis" in an attempt to wake him.

Aramis distantly registered the sounds of morning muster, crashes echoing through the thin walls as men crashed about half asleep, battling with the complicated task of pulling on braies and all manner of intricate clothing. Even the memory of Athos falling flat on his face when he had first tried to pull on his leather boots after a night of heavy drinking, was not enough to bring a smile to the tired man's face, instead threatening to cause a fresh wave of tears to crash over him.

Shaking his head sharply to clear it of depressing thoughts and self-pity, he shifted slightly on the hard ground before laying his cheek upon his knees, attempting to comfort himself when the muffled notes of Athos' voice filtered up from the courtyard, Porthos' laughter following in quick succession.

He had not even noticed that he had fallen asleep when he was woken by a soft whisper of his name, catapulting him back into memories of another voice whispering his name in the same tone, Aramis bolted to his feet only half conscious.

"Marsac?" he sobbed disoriented, lashing out at unseen attackers and one very real figure that appeared before him, "don't leave, MARSAC!"

His anguished cry tore at his throat as his panic rose, desperate to not be left behind in this freezing forest for one moment longer he launched himself forwards, stumbling drunkenly across the room.

The next moment he was pressed against a firm chest, strong arms holding him tightly and whispered words of comfort floated through the haze.

"It's alright Aramis, you are safe, you are home" Treville whispered, "No one is ever going to leave you"

"¡No!" he moaned, "¡No es verdad, Porthos, Athos, D'artagnan me han abandonado y Marsac también!"

Despite his fevered mutterings he clutched at the Captain's doublet desperately, feeling soothed by his presence and the familiar smell of his brown leathers. Gradually his trembling died down and he managed to open his eyes and not be plagued by visions of snow, trees and blood drying on dead bodies.

He shuddered and looked up at Treville blearily, "Treville, ¿Por qué estás aqui? ¿Dónde estoy?" voice wavering in confusion.

"Aramis, I can't understand you" the Captain responded sadly, the only time Aramis slipped into his mother tongue was in times of great distress, and the last time he had been witness to it was directly after Savoy.

"We are at the Garrison, you are safe. Come let's get you into bed" he gently gripped Aramis by the arms and levered him to his feet, steadying him when he swayed dizzily and sitting him on the edge of his cot.

He pushed down gently on Aramis' shoulder, pressing him to lie back down on the bed and pulling the covers up to his chin, tucking them in securely around his body. Despite the warmth from the body contact earlier Aramis was still shivering and he would do his best to erase the memories of Savoy from his mind.

Settling himself on the bed beside Aramis he began to rhythmically stroke hair back from his forehead, frowning in concern at the heat emanating from him, vowing to keep a close eye on it in case it rose. Although he knew from previous occasions that serious upsets can cause high temperatures, a fever would destroy Aramis now, he could only imagine the fevered hallucinations he would suffer.

He watched as the half conscious musketeer tossed his head weakly, eyelids fluttering before finally opening and meeting his. His concern skyrocketed at the glassy sheen to those coffee coloured eyes, and the slight hitch to his breaths.

"Aramis, can you hear me?"

"Yh" was the weakly whispered response "H'rts"

"I know son, I know" he soothed, resolving to sort out the feud between his best men, knowing that if he did not then Aramis would be lost to them forever.

"I am going to fetch Dr Lemay, and then get you some broth from Serge. Just relax Aramis" he made to get up when Aramis' hand clutched his arm desperately.

"No me dejes" he pleaded.

Unable to understand the desperate plea, Treville gently removed the hand and made his way out of the room.

The silence of the almost empty room was broken by muffled sobs and harsh breathing as Aramis was abandoned by another of those he trusted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay well that's that :D I think I made myself upset with this chapter, let me know what you think!  
> Just to clear up a few questions this is after D'artagnan has joined the inseparables and it is quite a while after the Savoy massacre but recent events have brought up bad memories for Aramis. Plus I don't think that he will ever not be haunted by it! The next chapter will be centred more around Athos, Porthos and D'artagnan on guard duty and we finally get the whole story about why they are angry! Exciting :D I'm so glad you guys like it.
> 
> SPANISH TRANSLATIONS (I am still learning Spanish so if any of it is wrong I apologise! And please correct me :D)
> 
> No, it's not true, Athos, Porthos, D'artagnan they have abandoned me, Marsac too.
> 
> Treville, why are you here? Where am I?
> 
> Don't leave me


	3. The Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys sorry for the delay but this was a very difficult chapter to write! Enjoy :D

“My loyal Musketeers! How pleasant it is for you to see me today”

Athos’ shoulders visibly tightened at the booming voice of the King, Porthos barely managing to hide a grimace at the vain man.

“Your Majesty” the three musketeers chorused, executing stiff bows in a parody of respect and removing their hats.

“Now, now, stand up” the familiar toothy grin appeared as Louis gestured grandly with one hand “I wish to take a walk in the grounds and require protection, come.”

Barely withholding sighs of exasperation Athos, Porthos and D’artagnan did as they were told and followed the practically prancing King as he made his way around the grounds, weapons clanking rhythmically against their sides.

It was a typical December morning in Paris, mist furling around the intricately shaped topiary in the grounds, a biting chill to the wind nipping at their faces. The sky was an attractive grey with imposing clouds threatening a snowfall in the near future, as if on cue soft flakes began to drift leisurely through the air.

“Why on Gods good Earth would the King wish to take a walk in the grounds in weather like this?” Porthos spat bitterly, rubbing harshly at a suddenly runny nose.

“He is the King” Athos responded dryly, the familiar eyebrow rising in a show of his amusement.

“Stop, you’re doing it again” D’artagnan butted in

Athos leapt away from his companion with an undignified squeak of surprise, having felt a sharp jab in his side. Brows drawn together in a frown, he gave a dark glare at the youngest of their group.

“You poked me” he drawled, “for what reason exactly?”

“You were doing the eyebrow thing again, and I can hear your thoughts from over here” D’artagnan laughed

“You could...” the rest of Athos’ response was lost as the booming voice of the King cut into their conversation

"Where is the other one of you?" a note of confusion was evident in Louis' voice, "the religious one, Aramis isn't it?

Dark looks stole across their faces at the mention of Aramis, "I am both surprised and honoured that you would remember humble musketeers such as ourselves"

Louis flapped a hand nonchalantly through the air, "I liked that one, amusing. Where is he?"

"Unavailable i'm afraid" Athos replied respectfully, bowing once more.

Upon receiving that news, the King gave a very unmajestic shrug and carried on down the path basking in admiration from his many servants.

Left in the wake of the whirlwind also known as the King, Athos, Porthos and D'artagnan shook their heads exasperatedly in an attempt to recover their wits.

"Do you think we are being too harsh on Aramis?" Porthos began hesitantly with a slight wince, "it doesn't feel right bein ere without him"

A creaking of leather split the awkward silence between them as Athos clenched his fists within his gloves, pace faltering momentarily. D'artagnan's reaction was even more telling as  he whirled sharply to face Porthos, blue cloak flapping with the disturbance.

"How could you even ask that?" he exclaimed disbelievingly, almost spitting the words in his anger and haste "Athos could have died!"

"So could Aramis" Porthos roared back, swiping a hand through the air to emphasise his point, "okay he made a mistake, but we all do!"

A muscle jumped in Athos' jaw as he listened to his brothers fighting, analysing the details of that fateful day as he turned the events over and over in his head.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Heads aching the four men made their way agonisingly slowly down the forest path, the easy chatter wiped out by the frigid cold that gripped them, teeth chattering loudly. After having spent four long days on the road it was no wonder that they were beginning to falter, bodies aching in the saddle, stomachs growling loudly protesting it's neglect.

The Comte's house had been comfortable in its warmth and Athos silently yearned for that blessed heat just for a few moments longer, although he mused he could do without the company of said Comte himself.

As Comte's are wont to be, this man had too much money and not enough to do with it, so he threw it around without a care in the world. It had been an uncomfortable reminder of his own days as part of the aristocracy, starving men would slave away in the fields as his father consumed copious amounts of meat and wine.

His brother had always hated the way they acted and frequently stole away with baskets of food for their tenants, dragging his beloved elder brother with him and larking about in the fields. A miniscule smile tugged at his lips, as per usual when Thomas was involved the memories bittersweet.

"Athos, don't you think this was too easy" D'artagnan spoke up from in front, twisting in the saddle "why would four musketeers be needed if the documents weren't important?"

"Be thankful that the mission hasn't been too trying, rather than bemoaning the lack of trouble" Athos smirked, "after a few years all the excitement can get rather... boring"

Porthos snorted loudly and turned to nudge Aramis in the side, startling at the empty space beside him usually filled with the presence of his brother. Glancing behind him he spotted the smaller man plodding along a few feet behind the rest of them, head of curly hair bowed low and almost touching the saddle as he drooped with fatigue.

Aramis lagged behind the group, caught up within his own thoughts. The snow on the ground and the chill in the air biting at his fingers was too harsh a reminder of Savoy, with every blink another body appeared before his eyes, red leaking out and staining the snow. It was at times like these that he hated himself, hated the weakness that resided within him what good was he as a soldier if he couldn't even handle a little bit of snow? It had been quite a few months, at least eight since he had last had an episode about Savoy and logically he knew that it was about time that another came along but it still rankled.

A shot rang out deafeningly loud in the blanketing silence of the snowy roads. All four horses startled, whinnying loudly in panic hooves flying wildly through the air as they bucked frantically. A short cry of panic sounded followed by a quiet whump as Aramis hit the ground, horse bolting away into the trees as the others managed to calm their mounts and circle towards the threat.

"AMBUSH" Athos roared, sword already pulled from its sheath and held ready "Aramis get up!"

Suddenly the trees were alive with movement, men in bandit masks pouring from cover with swords and pistols raised. Garbled cries of aggression filled the air as sword clashed with sword, men dropping like flies as the battle raged on.

Aramis lay on his side in the snow, head fuzzy and muddled as he listened to the distant sound of a fight. That's strange he thought, there shouldn't be any fighting they were all killed in their sleep, and Marsac.... His thoughts trailed off, head too confused to think anymore as he slowly rolled to his side pain lancing through his leg from an unknown injury.

"Aramis!" came a panicked shout and he blinked dazedly upwards in time to see a sword rushing towards his head, he rolled to the left at the last second and breathed a sigh of relief before lunging into action.

His pistols were a comforting weight in his hands, offering some measly means of protection in this frigid wasteland, his usual perfect aim coming into play once more as he took down two of the bandits with a clean shot to the chest. The bang and recoil of the pistols jerked him back into awareness in time to see the bandit standing above a prone Athos, sword poised to deliver the killing blow while his brother lay unaware after a harsh blow to the head with the pommel of a sword.

A chill lanced down his spine as he realised he had already spent his two bullets and by the time he reloaded Athos would be dead. Desperately he yanked his sword from its sheath and felt his stomach drop as he realised that he was never going to make it in time, his legs wouldn't respond merely trembling as he tried to get them to take his weight. As a last ditch attempt to save the life of his beloved brother, he unsheathed his main gauche and flung it with as much force as he could towards the attackers chest. 

The sickening thud that accompanied metal sinking into flesh was enough to turn even the strongest mans stomach and Aramis swallowed harshly against the nausea surging against the back of his throat, the sound bringing up pictures of slit throats. 

Struggling clumsily to his feet, leg threatening to collapse as he finally registered the pain shooting through it, between the three of them they managed to haul a compliant Athos upright and lean him against a tree. 

"We'll go on then" Porthos grunted at Aramis, gesturing towards their fallen brother "do your medical thing"

Aramis turned confused, distant eyes on his friends, blinking when D'artagnan snapped his fingers in front of his face " Earth to Aramis" 

"Right" he muttered and sluggishly made his way across the muddy floor.

Gently he probed around the back of Athos' head, fingers searching out a bump he was certain was there. He was rewarded moments later when his fingers pressed against a matted clump of hair, sticky with blood and swelling into a massive lump and his brother groaning and flinching away from his hands. 

"He'll be fine" Aramis sighed gratefully "it's just a bump, there is a cut but it won't need the needle. After a rest he should be fine to ride" 

Porthos and D'artagnan let out the breath that they had been holding in unison, the rush of air manifesting itself as a white cloud in the frigid air. "Well it's too damn cold to stay here, can we ride straight away?" 

"Yes" his answer was short and clipped, struggling to keep a whimper of pain from escaping along with his words.

He began to gently tap Athos on the cheek, calling his name softly "time to wake up 'Thos", the man began to groan and blinked blearily as the ground began to tilt beneath him and the world spin sickeningly.

"Oh God, how much did I drink last night?" Athos asked incredulously at the pounding in his skull, hand rising to massage his temples.

Porthos snorted with laughter "Nah, you had an unfortunate run in with the butt of a pistol"

"I hate it when that happens" a slight lift of an eyebrow signalled their brothers amusement and readiness to stand up and with the assistance of D'artagnan and Porthos' hands under his armpits he was soon vertical, swaying slightly on his feet.

Aramis gazed blankly at his brothers as they moved away from him and mounted their horses, chatting easily about the battle they had just survived "I'm tellin ya" Porthos bragged "I got five"

A sharp knife was suddenly pressed to his neck as he sat stunned on the ground "make one move and you die" a gravelly voice croaked in his ear one hand reaching up to thread itself cruelly in his hair, tugging it back and pressing the knife in further until a trail of blood made its way down his neck from a shallow cut. "Now, signal your friends and you won't die"

"Athos" Aramis called weakly, swallowing harshly against the sudden dryness in the back of his throat he repeated the call louder "ATHOS"

Finally his friends spun their horses around and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the track, shocked to find that one of their attackers hadn't been as dead as they had previously thought and had taken Aramis hostage.

"What do you want?" Athos drawled slowly

"The letter, give it to me and pretty boy here will live" he growled, digging the knife further into soft flesh. Aramis clenched his eyes tightly shut in fear as images of hundreds of his brothers, their throats cut in their sleep began to flood his mind setting his limbs trembling. Not even bothering to attempt escape as he normally would do, he merely sat placidly and waited for the end that had been coming for him since that night in Savoy.

A gunshot rang in his ears, bringing him back to the present as the knife fell from his neck and the man behind him fell with a thud to the ground behind him, a hole in his neck bleeding freely. A smoking pistol hung limply from D'artagnans' fingers, all aware of how close the shot had come to piercing their friends neck.

"Well come on then" Athos ordered Aramis, spurring on his horse and beginning to ride off towards Paris. "I can't believe you just sat there" Porthos scoffed in disbelief before following their Captain and D'artagnan just shot him a look of disgust and then leaving too.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, Aramis' head drooping lower and lower as pain and fatigue caught up with him and his friends continued to ignore him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Something wasn't right with him" Athos murmured softly on reflection casting silence upon the feuding brothers.

"So you agree" Porthos cried, "we were too harsh!"

"What do you mean something wasn't right?" D'artagnan asked in confusion.

"He was too quiet, and Aramis always fights back. The only time I have ever seen him that distracted was after..." Athos trailed off, eyes widening in shock and realisation "Savoy" he whispered.

"We have to get back"

As one they turned and sprinted back to the Garrison, running as fast as they could to reach their forsaken brother and put right what they had done wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well I have to say this is the longest chapter that I have EVER written. Its got a bit too much dialogue for my liking and i'm not too happy with it but I hope you enjoy it all the same! Next chapter we get to see the reunion of the boys yay! Let me know what you guys think, and let me know if you think the altercation between the boys was realistic :D


	4. Etienne to the rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thankyou guys for all your reviews, thanks to GingietheSnap for reminding me that I hadn't addressed the guard duty issue! :D

King Louis stood, mouth agape in the middle of the path as his three musketeers ran away from the palace, "I didn't dismiss them" he muttered in confusion a dark frown marring his face.

 "I didn't dismiss you!" he shouted at their retreating backs, waving a fist in the air before turning to his bemused servants and reiterating sadly "I had not dismissed them".  

"Sire, we should return to the palace I am afraid without guards it is too dangerous" a servant tremulously stated, fearing for his life in the face of royal wrath.

"Oh fine!", with a stomp of his foot the King stormed back to the palace moodily, trailing a posse of terrified servants behind him twitching at every tiny noise the King emitted.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Treville hurried down the steps from his office, boots clicking loudly on the wooden steps in his hurry to reach Serge in the kitchens. Men rushed noisily around the yard attempting to complete the jobs given to them by the Captain that very morning, horses whickering in the stables as the stable boys tacked up the horses ready for duty.

"Captain?" a voice called as a tall blonde haired man strode across the courtyard with purposeful strides, "is everything alright?"

"Ah Etienne!" Treville exclaimed with a sigh of relief, running a nervous hand through his hair and clasping the hilt of his sword in one sweaty palm. "I need your help, Aramis is unwell and I am reluctant to leave him alone for too long a stretch of time. Will you sit with him whilst I fetch some cloths and water?"

A concerned frown immediately marred Etienne's face, "of course, I hope it's nothing serious! It was impossible to miss the odd atmosphere between them this morning."

It had been a while since he had last spoken with Aramis what with him being a part of the inseparables and only ever going on missions with each other, after the incident at Savoy he had felt sympathy for Aramis having lost his own brother in arms to the massacre.

He remembered the day Aramis had stumbled into the Garrison, clothes muddy and torn with a face that would have looked more appropriate on a corpse. The facial hair that he laboured intensively over nowadays was a chaotic bush with chapped lips barely visible, highlighting the ghastly black shadows beneath glazed unseeing eyes.

He had in short, looked like a dead man walking. 

As one the men parted ways, Treville carrying on to see Serge and Etienne hurrying up the stairs to attend to Aramis. Cracking open the door of Aramis' room as quietly as he could, he tentatively took a couple of steps into the dark room, grimacing at the dank smell of sickness that permeated the air.

Shaking his head in despair he settled himself down into the hard backed chair beside the cot, tears glistened in his eyes as he took in the sorry sight before him. In his opinion Aramis looked in a much worse condition now than he had done both after Savoy and when he had first joined the Musketeers, the most surprising aspect of this situation was the absence of the other three inseparables.

Before his hand was even close to coming into contact with his brothers forehead he could feel the heat emanating in waves from his skin, he cursed loudly as he searched for a reason for the fever ravaging his body.

Aramis tossed weakly as hands began prodding at him and he moaned in aggravation, flapping in frustration as cold air attacked him.

"Shhh, it's alright Mis" Etienne soothed, catching his hands before they smashed into his nose "calm down"

His eyes finally settled upon a dark stain that was slowly growing on the sheet of the bed and he cursed, paling as he realised that the coppery smell of blood was leaking from a gunshot wound in Aramis' thigh.

"How on Earth did no one notice this!" he exclaimed, threading his fingers with the Spaniards to provide some comfort to his prone brother while his other hand was occupied with applying pressure to the wound. "Don't worry, Treville will be back soon."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Serge?" Treville called as he stepped into the kitchen, "I need towels and cold water, and also some brandy for good measure"

Peering short sightedly into the darkness, he carefully manoeuvred his way around the worktops and chairs towards the back room.

"Wha can I do for ya Captain?" Serge bellowed happily as he bustled towards Treville, wiping his hands roughly on a towel.

"Aramis is feverish, we need towels, water and brandy" Treville repeated with a clipped tone, already beginning to search out a bowl for himself unable to restrain the nervous energy coursing through him.

"Absolutely, poor lad" Serge replied sadly "can he never catch a break? When he first appeared at the gates of the Garrison, Savoy and now this"

Moments later both men were clambering back up the Garrison steps, a light thumping accompanying Serge's uneven footsteps as the older man limped heavily.

Loud shouting and thundering footsteps drew all attention to the commotion at the gates where a crowd of Musketeers had paused in their duties to stare out at the street beyond, their signature blue cloaks creating a sea of throbbing colour as they shifted in anticipation of the coming altercation. Three flustered men ran through the crowds parting the throng of people as easily as a hot knife through butter before being spat out onto the other side, bending at the waist and resting hands on knees as they panted and wheezed for breath after their mad dash from the palace.

Athos held a hand up and gasped out "just... give us... a moment... please"

Laughter bounced around as the men chuckled brightly at the actions of their brothers, it was not often that one was given the opportunity to see any of the inseparables looking less than immaculate.

Whilst his men were distracted by the spectacle Treville scoffed in disgust, spun neatly on his heel and once again began his trip to his ailing mans room, his pace faltering momentarily as a voice cried out to him.

"Captain" Athos shouted from below, stretching a hand clad in leather gloves up towards Treville, "Captain, please!"

His hand fell uselessly to his side with a muted slap, leather meeting leather, as he watched the retreating back of his Captain, breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh as the man he respected almost as a second father deserted him and displayed his displeasure quite clearly with his rigid shoulders.

"Whas wrong with im then?" Porthos gasped in confusion, chest heaving with each breath, eyes fixed on their retreating Captain.

"I have a feeling that we are not in his good books over Aramis" Athos responded dryly with an abortive hand gesture as the three moved unanimously towards their quarters in a desperate bid to reach their fallen brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry that this is so short and kind of seems to be a bit of a filler chapter. Next chapter all of the drama will kick off with medical drama and reunions, yay! Let me know what you think please and thanks so much for all your lovely reviews! They really inspire me to carry on writing for you all :D


	5. Treatment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay I managed to get this finished quicker than I expected, so here it is, chapter 5! Enjoy :D

Etienne heaved a shuddering breath as he desperately blinked against the tears burning at the back of his eyes, what was taking Treville so long! Aramis had settled slightly, flailing movements slowing to a disturbed tossing, which was even more worrying as his breaths began to come as wheezes. The only reason he could even tell that his brother was still breathing was from the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"Damn it Aramis" his voice hitched painfully "next time you offer to teach first aid, I'm the first in line!"

Swiping a sleeve across his face to catch the tears he carried on "I wish I could do more for you brother but I'm here, okay, you aren't alone!" He punctuated his tearful words with a hard squeeze to the Spaniards hand that he dearly hoped punctured the burning haze of fever. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door banged open loudly as Treville stormed in, visibly fuming to such an extent that it seemed jets of steam were flowing from his ears, fists clenched with the noise of creaking leather.

"Captain!" Etienne cried desperately, "he's hurt" 

"Yes son, I know but a fever is treatable" Treville soothed calmly, placing a comforting hand on his soldiers shoulder.

"No Captain, you don't understand... He's been shot!" He contradicted, shaking his head emphatically.

The atmosphere of the room suddenly became charged with disbelief and fear, so strong that it could be cut with a knife.

Treville's already pale face drained of any remaining colour and for a moment, Etienne worried that he would pass out, swaying dangerously on his feet. Then his face hardened, becoming the picture of control and business that kept the Garrison running through even the hardest times, and instilled such a deep respect and trust in all his men.

"Right Serge, get Doctor Lemay!" He barked out the order without even sparing a glance towards the poor bewildered cook, "I had hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but knowing Aramis, I should have called him from the start" 

A helpless snort sounded from Etienne, a cross between a laugh and a sob tearing at Treville's heart. 

"Etienne, son, look at me" 

He waited until tear glazed blue eyes locked absently with his own and smiled reassuringly.

"You have done well, Aramis will be fine. I need you to stay right where you are okay, keep holding his hand. Can you do that for me son?"

The shell shocked man nodded shakily in response, heartened by the Captains confidence.

"'Thos" came a hoarse moan from the top of the bed followed by a weak whimper. 

"Shh Aramis it's alright" Etienne soothed quietly, "we're here"

"No, P'thos, 'Thos, D'art, no" he whimpered tossing his head weakly back and forth, almost as if he were searching for the missing men within his mind. 

"Shit, they should be here" Treville growled angrily, as he grabbed a bowl of water from the cooks hand, sloshing it dangerously around the edges. 

Almost simultaneously, there came a thunderous knocking upon the door, the sturdy oak vibrating in its frame with the force of the blows. 

"Jesus" Treville swore as he swung the door open violently, "what the hell do you want!" 

The other three quarters of the inseparables stood sheepishly in the doorway of the room, hats held limply in hands and contrite expressions plastered across their faces. 

"Captain please" Athos begged uncharacteristically emotional, "we made a mistake, let us see our brother!" 

The other two nodded vigorously at their leaders words, almost like sheep following along with each other.

They quailed under the full force of their Captains heated glare and narrowed eyes, fixing their most penitent expressions upon their faces in an attempt to inspire pity. 

"Fine" Treville ground out, tone clipped and short. "But only because Aramis needs you" 

The men visibly deflated with relief and swarmed into the room like a breaking wave, settling around the cramped bedside and staring in horror at their brothers sallow skin, contrasting shockingly with the bright glow of fever high upon his cheeks.

"Christ" Porthos breathed in dismay, "what happened Mis?"

"We were hoping you could tell us that" Etienne breathed thickly, bringing all eyes to land on him as his hand tightened its grip on Aramis', to the extent that his knuckles turned a sickening shade of white. "I for one don't understand how this could have happened"

The three inseparables flinched backwards visibly in the face of Etienne's threatening tone and subtle dig, he raised his head and glared defiantly at the three men, allowing them to see the evidence of his worry in the glistening tear tracks, red eyes and blotchy skin.

"Etienne are you alright?" D'artagnan asked, voice dripping concern at the state of a fellow musketeer that they were considerably closer to than the rest of the recruits, having trusted him to aid them in a few missions.

Silence reigned in the small room.

Etienne's shoulders began to shake with tremors, almost as if an earthquake were shaking the foundations of his body, fists clenching tightly as he stood up in a flash.

"Alright, ALRIGHT" he began to laugh somewhat manically."Am I alright he asks!"

As abruptly as it had begun the laughter ended, replaced with harsh sobbing that was almost harder to bear in a way.

"No, no i'm not okay" he shook his head repeatedly from side to side, "if we lose him... I will NEVER forgive you" he whispered vehemently before returning silently to his seat and taking up the limp hand of his brother once again.

"O..kay" D'artagnan frowned, giving Etienne a look that clearly displayed his opinion that the man had lost his mind, "but Mis is fine isn't he, just having flashbacks?" he queried in confusion wondering at why Etienne believed they would lose their brother.

At that point Treville had reached the end of his tether and barged his way past his dumbfounded men.

"You. Sit down. Now. Silent" he barked out orders in quick succession, setting the bowl of water down on the bed by Aramis' thigh.

Treville kept up a litany of soothing words as he began to cut away the fabric of Aramis' breeches with a sharp dagger, hissing through his teeth at the jagged skin surrounding the bullet hole. "It's alright Aramis" he placated as the man began to writhe in pain as he gently prodded at the edges of the wound and searched patiently for an exit wound at the back of the leg.

He cursed again for what felt like the hundredth time that night and wondered why this poor man could not catch a break, removing a bullet was not a pretty process.

"I need the extractors Etienne"

What colour was left in the man's face immediately drained away at his Captains request "No" he whispered horrified before reaching into the pack Serge had placed beside him and withdrawing the hated bullet extractors.

"Wait! He was shot! Where! When!" Porthos cried, feeling tears begin to well up at the back of his eyes, the familiar burning attacking his senses.

"SILENCE" Treville roared "or I will not hesitate to order you to leave and court marshal you if you refuse" he threatened.

Taking the silence as their acquiescence, he gripped the scissor like implement in steady hands and approached the wound, pausing before the rounded paddles reached the ragged skin he addressed Etienne quietly "Hold him down son"

With a quiet sob Etienne did as he was told, leaning on his brothers chest and gripping each arm with a hand, pressing him firmly to the surface of the cot. Once satisfied that Aramis was not going to move and make a painful procedure a hundred times worse, Treville began to work the metal extractor into the gaping wound and search for the bullet.

As the metal sank deeper, inch by inch into his thigh Aramis began to buck and whimper crying out against the burning that was attacking his leg with a vengeance, pleas dropping from his lips with quiet intensity.

Minutes went by with Aramis' thrashing growing weaker and Treville's expression growing eternally more grim as he failed to locate the foreign object lodged in the wound. Just as he was about to give up hope on ever finding it, the paddles of the extractor made contact with something hard, holding his breath and hardly daring to hope, Treville opened the paddles wide and gained a grip on the bullet.

Slowly, slowly he began to pull the extractors backwards out of the wound, keeping a firm grip on the bullet between them, sweat dripping down his back as the stress of the situation finally began to get to him. Suddenly the extractors slipped and the bullet slick with blood shot out of his grasp, pulling a pained gasp from Aramis as it dug into his flesh once more, extractors pulling uncomfortably on the edges of the wound. As Treville began to replace the extractors to attempt once again to remove the bullet, a soft voice interrupted him from behind.

"Captain, just use your fingers" Athos whispered, tears clear in his voice as he was forced to watch helplessly as his brother was in pain "once it's that close to the surface, it's easier to just use your fingers... Mis told me"

With a curt nod to the man behind him, Treville turned back to the task at hand and after taking a deep breath plunged his fingers into the bullet hole. Getting a firm grip on the elusive bullet he pulled it from the wound and heaved a massive sigh of relief, that was mirrored by all occupants of the room. He doused the jagged wound with a healthy amount of alcohol, dearly wishing that he could be drinking it instead, and began to shakily thread a needle to stitch the ragged skin back together as best as possible.

"He won' be best pleased by that Capn" Porthos laughed tearfully once Treville had finished his stitching, "you know how finicky he is about needlework"

"That I do Porthos, that I do" Treville replied smiling wryly as he bandaged the freshly stitched wound as tight as he dared, draping a wet towel over Aramis' forehead in an attempt to combat the fever that was slowly rising.

A peaceful silence settled over the room as the frantic motion died down. all that could be done for Aramis having been completed and now all that was left was the waiting game, to see if his fever would break, if infection would set in and most importantly if he would wake up and recover from this latest ordeal.

Despite the anger that Treville harboured towards his three men, he allowed them to remain in the room, their regret and sadness obvious in their faces and postures, but also a large amount of fear and desperation as they faced the fact that this might be it.

They might lose Aramis here, and four would become three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well personally I am really happy with this chapter! I hope you liked it and please review, let me know what you think! Also thank you so much to all of you who are keeping up with this story and reviewing it really helps me keep writing! I do try and address any questions or advice in the following chapter but if there is anything that I haven't cleared, that you still aren't sure of or would like to ask me then please let me know :D The next chapter should be up by next week!


	6. Fevered Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6, a bit shorter than the rest but I still hope that you enjoy it

_Mist rose in wisps from the frozen ground around him, steaming blood melting into the snow around him as he lay helplessly on his side next to the corpses of his brothers. He shivered helplessly as the cold seeped into his very bones, wet clothes sticking uncomfortably against his skin tacky with moisture and blood that was a mixture of his own and those around him. Slowly pushing himself to his knees he began crawling tiredly towards the shelter of the tree line, wary of the fact that the Savoyards could return at any moment to finish off the job. Before he had reached the comfort of the shaded cover a pair of large leather boots appeared in his path, tilting his head back he followed the brown breeches all the way upwards until his eyes rested upon his brother Jacques' face. He smiled weakly at the familiar face, until his eyes happened upon the blood dribbling thickly from the side of his mouth and the rapier protruding sickeningly from his chest._

_"Jacques?" Aramis stuttered tearily, mind conjuring happy memories of sunny days spent at the Garrison, Jacques and Etienne laughing uproariously together as they entertained themselves with some card game or another. It pained him like a gunshot wound to the chest that he would never return to his brother, guilt like a physical kick to the gut as the rasping voice of his fellow soldier penetrated his fuzzy mind._

_"Why didn't you save me Aramis?" Jacques accused in a gravelly voice, taking a shuffling step forwards "you could have saved me, think about poor Etienne he has no one else"_

_"I tried, please" Aramis cried scrambling backwards away from the accusatory ghost of his brother, voice shaking and eyes blurring with tears "I tried to save you"_

_He sobbed in distress as he continued to back away from his brother, a litany of apologies spilling from his lips until with a startled cry he collided with something solid. With dread he slowly turned to look, shuddering as his eyes landed on another pair of leather boots, these achingly more familiar than the last._

_"Athos" Aramis whispered in terror, face paling dramatically as he tentatively met the eyes of his brother "you shouldn't be here!"_

_"But where else would I be Aramis?" Athos replied darkly "you do get everyone killed" he gestured with one glove clad hand over the battlefield, finger pointing out two familiar shapes nestled in the icy embrace of the snowy floor._

_"NO" Aramis screamed, echoes bouncing off the desolate surroundings as he ran, tripping and stumbling over the frozen ground in his desperation, falling to his knees beside the bodies of Porthos and D'artagnan, their sightless eyes staring unseeing at the grey and stormy sky._

_His sobbing increased in intensity as he held the cold hand of his brother and best friend, frantic prayers flowing from frozen lips as he began to rock back and forth for comfort._

_"Do you see now Aramis?" Athos asked, "do you now understand that you are the reason they are dead and someday soon you'll kill them too. We're better off without you, you should have been the one to die here" With those final cutting words Athos spun neatly on his heels and strode off into the growing dark until not even a faint silhouette could be seen in the darkness._

_"No please" Aramis whispered in anguish, hand outstretched desperately towards his disappearing brother "don't leave me here alone"_

_Silence fell once again on the battlefield as Aramis sat slumped beside the bodies of his only family, eyes staring unseeing into the middle distance as tears streamed silently down his cheeks._

\-----------------------------------------------

Dr Lemay had been and gone a couple of hours previously, leaving behind some strange smelling salve and instructions to apply it to the bullet wound every three hours to stave off infection. He had assured the gathered men that the fever should break within the next day or two and thanks to the expert actions of Treville the bullet wound should cause no problems.

The release of tension in the room was palpable and made Athos almost dizzy with relief at the knowledge that their brother would pull through this latest misadventure. Not twenty seconds after he had allowed himself to relax and believe that everything would be alright, Aramis began tossing his head weakly and pleading with an invisible foe, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as he sobbed in distress.

"Please Athos, don't leave me" he suddenly cried arm shooting out from underneath the covers and reaching out desperately.

Without stopping to think, Athos had gripped his brothers hand tightly, pressing it to his cheek in an attempt to reassure both himself and his brother that they were both there and alive. "I'm here Mis, i'm so sorry but i'm here" he whispered, tears trailing down his own cheeks in response to his brothers anguish.

"I know it's my fault that they're dead and that i'm going to kill you one day but I can't live without you so please, please don't leave me alone here" the fevered man begged, unaware of the pain etched on his brothers faces as they could only listen to the fevered ramblings and attempt to comfort the injured man.

A/N: Again a little bit of a filler chapter but next chapter will be the awakening of Aramis and the fallout for the boys of their actions. Enjoy and please let me know :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a fuller chapter just so you guys could have a little bit more hurt Aramjis! Next chapter is where he awakens and the boys face the fallout of their actions! Let me know what you think


	7. Forgiveness yes, but trust...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Well here we go with chapter 7 guys, enjoy

Aramis returned to consciousness rather abruptly, eyes burning uncomfortably after having spent an indeterminate amount of time asleep, which was regardless too long a stretch of time. He swallowed convulsively against the thickness in his throat, tongue feeling ten times too large for his mouth and as ungainly as a drunk mans legs, the sudden influx of air tickled his throat with a vengeance and drew coughs unbidden that racked his frame.

With a deep groan he pressed a hand to his chest, marvelling at the pain that attacked his body with an inferno like fury, praying for it to come to an end soon as he struggled to draw breath.

The other occupants of the room were startled awake by the painful coughing of their injured friend, Porthos was on his feet immediately, the speed and fluidity of his movement surprising for such a large man, holding his friend upright with one muscled arm around his back as said man attempted to cough up a lung.

The next to find the coherency to move was Athos who plied Porthos with a glass of water to soothe their friends bout of coughing.

"Mis" Porthos whispered softly when his friend had finally sagged bonelessly back into the support of his arm, seeming for all intents and purposes to have gone back to sleep. He gently gave him a soft shake when he got no response, smiling weakly at the grumpy growl he got in response as bleary coffee coloured eyes cracked open to glare weakly at him.

"Come on Mis, drink something it'll help with your throat and you know it" he cajoled gently pressing the rim of the mug against his brothers cracking lips, tipping slowly and pulling it away after a couple of mouthfuls.

Aramis whimpered pitifully and strained to reach the water that was being taken away from him so rudely, the couple of sips not coming close to quenching the infinite thirst that attacked him.

"It's okay Mis, calm down" Porthos soothed " if you drink anymore you're going to throw up and you know it"

The calming words filtered through his fuzzy brain and he relaxed, ceasing his futile struggling that was only serving to drain him of his already minute reserves of energy.

"Wha you doin ere P'thos?" he rasped, frowning at the two men in front of him as he observed their dishevelled state and tired expressions.

"Where else would we be brother" Athos stated simply, sitting gently down on the side of the cot, holding the now redundant mug with both hands.

"Weren't here before" Aramis responded tiredly, closing his eyes against the throbbing in his skull and attempting to ignore the fire that had slowly ignited in his thigh.

'Ah I remember now, the gunshot. That would be why my leg currently feels like roast turkey' he mused tiredly to himself.

With his eyes closed he missed the guilt and distress that raced across his brothers faces at his exhausted words, Athos grimacing as his brothers words hit him like a punch to the gut.

"That was a mistake" he whispered in anguish "that will never happen again" patting his brothers leg gently, and recoiling as his brother jerked away from him.

"I... should go" with those parting words Athos fled the room as fast as he could without seeming desperate and maintaining his calm facade.

"Now that wasn't very nice" Porthos scolded gently, lowering his brother back onto a stack of pillows that propped him into a comfortable sitting position " he feels terrible, we all do"

"I'd wager not as badly as I do" Aramis joked weakly with a wry smile, "however that does not excuse the way you behaved. I trusted you and spent a while wondering what I could have done wrong that would cause you to hate me so after all we had been through together! I berated myself for being so pathetic. It is better for you to leave me, before I get you killed as I do with all others that get close to me and even some that don't! Besides it is evident that you do not wish for my company nor be forced to endure my flaws, I never meant for any of you to get hurt and when I think about what could have happened to Athos" he broke off for a second as he shuddered in horror "it does not bear thinking about! Therefore I have concluded that it is for the best we part ways, I don't know if I can trust you again... my forgiveness is something that you already have but my trust... well we'll see."

As his brother trailed off towards the end of his heartrending speech, Porthos was struck dumb by the harsh words directed not towards his brothers but himself, when in the end it had been their mistakes that had caused all this.  However knowing Aramis as well as he did, he knew it was futile to even attempt arguing with him at this moment and the best course of action was letting him burn himself out.

Barely five seconds later Aramis' rant had come to an end, breath coming in gasps as his throat surrendered under the stress before his face crumpled, finally reaching the end of his self restraint, his iron clad grip on his emotions all but disappearing as he dissolved into floods of tears.

A loud swallow was the only response Porthos could even consider giving after that bombshell and without a moment's hesitation he pulled Aramis towards himself, practically into his lap, pressing the smaller man to his chest and resting a heavily bearded chin upon his friends head.

Pushing any negative thoughts to the very depths of his mind he began a soothing rocking motion in an attempt to comfort the distraught man, for now he would focus the entirety of his energies upon helping his brother and deal with the repercussions of their mistake later.

This emotional fallout had been threatening for months now, thinking back on their time together now Porthos could kick himself, it had been so clear to see and he had somehow missed the signs. Finally after a painful half an hour of gut wrenching sobs, Aramis slipped back into a less than peaceful sleep cradled in his brothers arms and Porthos breathed a sigh of relief tipping his own head back against the headboard and closing his eyes in exhaustion.

"He is too kind" a voice said lowly, penetrating the drowsy atmosphere of the dimly lit room "if it was me, I wouldn't have forgiven you"

Glancing towards the edges of the room his eyes landed on the slumped form of Etienne, eyes half open as he glared blearily at him. Dark shadows under his eyes coupled with the red rims clear signs of being overtired and overwrought.

"You heard him" Porthos replied tiredly, scrubbing a hand down his face "his forgiveness means little if he doesn't trust us anymore, you know that"

"Yes" Etienne stated simply "musketeers without trust are like soldiers with no orders, useless and disorganised"

Porthos let out a mirthless laugh, "exactly, but without him we are nothing, the inseparable will be no more but if to leave is what he wants then we won't stop im"

Etienne gave a solemn nod, satisfied that the man before him would act with nothing but the best interests of their brother at heart. With that the tired men closed their eyes and drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay I tried to tap into Aramis' feelings here, let me know if it comes across well :D Next chapter is some more Treville and Aramis bonding and some conversation between the rest of the boys! Unfortunately school is starting again on Monday :_( I am not sure how reliable updates are going to be now but I will try to update as soon as possible! Please review and let me know what you think and thank you again to all who review every chapter and for the support and kind words :D


	8. Athos' Agony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 8 everyone, enjoy! A little bit of Athos whump this time :D

Athos slumped against the closed door at his back, palms flat against the wood and head hanging miserably. Shame coursed through his body in overwhelming waves as the image of his beloved brother flinching from his touch played itself on repeat behind his eyelids. Tears began to prickle at the corners of his eyes, Aramis' words filtering through the oak and piercing his heart like a gunshot knowing that this was his fault.

The sound of a throat being cleared snapped him from his self reproach as his head jerked up in shock, hair flying chaotically around his face. 

"Captain" he breathed in surprise, Treville having reached the top of the staircase and cocking his hip to lean against the balustrade next to him. 

"Athos" Treville responded in kind "what are you doing out here?"

"Aramis is... Aramis is awake" Athos smiled tremulously, meeting his Captains eyes rather bashfully, seeming to be veritably ashamed of his show of emotions.

"Well that is good news" Treville smiled, raking his eyes subtly across his lieutenants trembling form, concern flaring within him as the usually stoic mans' mask faltered.

"It is indeed, you must excuse me Captain I have much business to attend to" he nodded stiffly to his Captain and made to move past him, stopped in his tracks by a sudden movement as Treville placed a hand on his breast.

Wordlessly Treville altered his grip, wrapping one hand around the other mans bicep and steering him gently into his office, pressing him down into a chair and dragging his own over to sit with knees almost touching. Resting his hands lightly upon Athos' knees he gazed softly at him.

"Athos, talk to me"

The younger man turned away, shifting slightly in discomfort "I have nothing to say Captain, and I really must be going" he made an aborted attempt to rise, slowly sinking back in the face of his Captains' threatening glare.

"He couldn't even bare for me to touch him" he whispered in anguish, covering his face with his hands in despair "and I can't even blame him for it"

"No you can't" Treville reiterated harshly his own anger at his subordinate showing through, his face softened however and he continued "but nor can you blame yourself entirely Athos"

Athos' raised his head and stared in disbelief at his Captain "how can I not? If I had not been so... so..." he growled angrily and fisted his hands in his hair, aggravated with his inability to formulate the words he had been utilising for so many years.

"Athos" Treville chided gently, pulling his hands away from harming himself and grasping them between one of his own, raising the other to cup his face "I know you, I know what kind of a man you are. It is inconceivable that you would have neglected to care for Aramis had you known the extent or indeed the truth of his condition. Therefore I can only conclude that you were similarly incapacitated in the mind at this time."

Athos laughed mirthlessly in the face of his Captains' measured words "you do know me too well indeed Captain, and as you well know I am not what one would call a model human being."

"You are too harsh on yourself Athos, you are a good man, one of the best I know. Give Aramis time, explain to him why it was you treated him so harshly and I have no doubt that he will understand and forgive you."

"You do not understand Captain" he cried, tears beginning to spill from his eyes "for he has already forgiven us! But he cannot begin to trust us and that is my fault! There is nought that I can do to fix that" he dissolved into sobs the loss of his brother so reminiscent of the death of another that his fragile psyche could no longer stand the thought of it.

Treville gathered the overwrought man into his arms, seeking to provide comfort to the most steadfast man he knew, another of his precious sons falling apart at the seams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this is all I have time for at the moment with school having started up again! Hopefully the next chapter will be longer and I hope you enjoy the glimpse into Athos state of mind! As usual please let me know what you think and if you have any ideas for me, let me know :D


	9. Emotional Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Enjoy guys, practically everyone gets emotional in this chapter :D

Thankfully the men of the Garrison were well trained and in the absence of their Captain the regiment functioned like a well-oiled machine, men traipsing tiredly in through the heavy gates after a long, boring day of guard duty, and others dead on their feet whilst brushing down their horses and tidying away their packs.

Just another normal end of the day at the Garrison.

Except it was not.

Athos flushed a bright shade of vermillion as he pulled awkwardly away from the warm arms of his Captain, never before had he felt so ridiculous in his life, and coming from a man who was experienced in the woes of vomiting after excess alcohol and lying around in bodily fluids for hours, that was saying something.

Unable to raise his head and face meeting those piercing blue eyes that seemed to penetrate right to your innermost thoughts, he clumsily attempted to escape the situation “I apologise Captain, for my unseemly behaviour over the recent hour. And sincerely hope that it has not altered or indeed damaged, your perception of me or my ability to complete my duties”

“Quite the contrary Athos, I have never had more confidence in you than I do right in this moment. A man who is unable to express his emotions in a time like this is not one whom I would want on my regiment, you know the moral code by which we live Athos?” Treville questioned earnestly.

“One for all and all for one” Athos whispered in breathless comprehension as the meaning of his Captains words finally registered.

“Indeed Athos. If you had not shown that you really, deeply, sincerely cared for Aramis and his plight then I would have been worried about you. Thankfully you acted as I would have hoped and demonstrated that the bond you three have, is that of the closest of brothers. Do not despair son, Aramis will forgive you for as much as he is an essential part of your life, you are an essential part of his.”

In a rare unguarded moment of his life, Athos stripped away the bonds his upbringing and status had placed upon him and allowed a true, blinding smile to creep its way onto his face. The like of which has not been seen by any other than his brother, correction brothers, and then not for many years.

Treville could have cried himself in that moment.

He allowed the other man another few minutes to compose himself before standing abruptly from his chair, startling a distracted Athos who looked up at him in bewilderment “I must return to my Musketeers and you Athos would do well to return to your own brothers, they must be despairing of you!”

“I sincerely doubt it” Athos protested, frowning at the hearty chuckles of his Captain “I can only imagine Aramis must be hoping I keep my distance for quite some time”

When a hand landed in an enthusiastic clap on his shoulder, Athos swayed unsteadily on his feet, desperately battling to regain his equilibrium as Treville strode past him and out the door with nary a word, simply chuckling.

A more recognisable facial expression settled over his features as he growled in aggravation at the retreating figure, as much as he loved and respected that man he did drive him to distraction. With an inaudible sigh he braced himself for the agony he was about to subject himself to, dawdling along the corridor to his brothers room as slowly as possible without walking backwards or looking shady.

Scoffing at his ridiculous thoughts he knocked, business like upon the door.

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Unknowingly, Aramis was in a similar state to Athos. Embarrassed at having spent approximately the previous hour bawling his eyes out, but with a strange conviction that he was entitled to this, he had endured a very trying few days and if he wanted to cry then dignity be damned he would.

Feeling strangely weightless and empty, Aramis lifted a heavy arm that felt like it had been replaced with a pile of rocks and tiredly wiped his eyes of the remaining treacherous moisture. Porthos, alerted to his friends’ gradual return to cognizance by the slow evening out of his breathing was prepared for the movement, and again captured Aramis’ hands in one of his.

“Stop tha now” he chided gently, extricating a handkerchief from his own pocket and gently wiping the tear tracks from his brothers face, movements slow and gentle as if dealing with a frightened animal or a piece of fine china rather than a human being. “You’ll ony make your face urt”

Sniffling softly Aramis managed a watery smile “maybe it would take my mind of everything else that hurts”

Hearing the weak attempt at his usual humour Porthos beamed back at him and chuckled softly, the rumbling vibrating pleasantly through Aramis from where he rested against the larger man’s chest. “Aye, maybe it would but I do not recommend trying it.”

“Aww you are no fun” the smaller man pouted playfully, seeming in much better spirits after the venting of his emotions. “You can put me down now you know” he teased, playfully prodding Porthos in the stomach.

“Nah, I am perfectly fine the way I am thanks”

Silence fell in the room at that declaration, the only movement coming from the two men being a tightening of arms and hands where they met the other, almost attempting to become the one person as they strove for physical reassurance.

“Everything is still not okay” Aramis whispered sadly into the silence.

“I know” Porthos responded emphatically “but you need me and nothing, I mean nothing will ever stop me from being here ever again”

Their heartfelt conversation was interrupted by a sharp business like knock on the door, clutched tightly in Porthos’ embrace Aramis began to wiggle slightly in an attempt to get free.

“Stop that you, it’s probably just Athos” Porthos rebuked and raising his voice called out “Come in”

A head of chaotic tawny hair poked shyly around the door jamb, before the rest of Athos followed suit, having seen both occupants of the room awake and relatively calm. He faltered slightly in his forward movement as he approached the bed and came to an uncertain stop halfway between the bed and door, seeming to contemplate just turning and running back the way he had come.

“Stay” a soft voice whispered pleadingly.

Athos clenched his eyes tightly shut in anguish at his brother’s voice and steeling his resolve, plonked himself down on the bed next to the other two and meeting both of their eyes in determination, spoke.

“We need to talk”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well that’s chapter 9!!! I managed to get this done during a free at school so hopefully we may have two chapters up this week, but we’ll see! As usual let me know what you think and thanks for all of the reviews and everyone who reads this :D Next chapter what does Athos want to talk about?


	10. Enter D'artagnan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Enjoy guys, the talk between the brothers.

"We need to talk"

Those four fateful words hung in the air between them, a prickle of discomfort spreading down Aramis' spine at the prospect of the coming conversation. From his vantage point on Porthos' lap he felt safe enough to allow himself to sink into an almost meditative daze, contemplating the events that had led up to this moment, the hurt and terror that had run rampant through him.

"Aramis...are you...Aramis...what's.... ARAMIS!"

The shout of his name jerked him abruptly from his pensive state, head jerking up in shock and wide startled eyes focussed on Athos' concerned face. Wiping a shaking hand across his sweating brow he swallowed determinedly and nodded in response to Athos' call.

"I'm fine Athos" he smiled weakly "merely a little... distracted"

"We've noticed, on more than one occasion" Porthos nodded his agreement.

"Well i'm not surprised" Aramis chuckled dryly "I can't remember an instance in the past few months where I have not been distracted"

His two brothers grimaced, once again reminded that they had neglected their brother in his moments of need.

"Why did you not talk to us?" Porthos implored "you know you are our brother and we would do anything for you, so why not talk to us?"

"How could I!" Aramis seemed suddenly incensed, hands curling into fists as he struggled to pull away from his brothers arms "I am a Musketeer, we are supposed to be brave, honourable and fight for justice. How am I supposed to do that if I fall to pieces at the merest glimpse of snow, how can I be a brother to you all! Besides by the time I realised it was causing significant issues, it was too late. Athos was almost killed and you couldn't bear to even look at me, even the way D'artagnan looked" he paused briefly to smother a sob "I realised then that I could never look after you and that to prevent any harm coming to you on my account then I had to let you go"

"Aramis" they whispered in unison, horrified at the low self worth their brother harboured for himself.

Athos surprised himself by reaching forward and grabbing his brothers hand by the wrist, initiating physical contact for the first time in many years and pulling his hand away from rubbing at his slightly glistening eyes.

Opening his mouth to begin demolishing the nonsense arguments of his brother, he was interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door and a call of his name. He sighed in irritation and strode briskly to the door, pulling it violently open and narrowly avoiding smashing himself  in the face he barked out a "what" to the startled knocker.

D'artagnan reared back in shock at the hostility in his brothers voice, unaccustomed to having such vitriol aimed at him from his mentor. "I am sorry Athos, I did not realise that I was interrupting and merely wished to enquire after Aramis' health" he hung his head miserably, dark hair forming a curtain around his face as he whispered sadly "I feel terrible"

Uncharacteristically for Athos, he reached out and wrapped his arms around their youngest brother, pulling him into a comforting hug and simultaneously manoeuvring him into the room to join them, toeing the door shut behind him. After plonking him down into a straight backed chair beside the bed, he awkwardly extricated himself from the tactile young man and faced the other men in the room, "well look who decided to join us" he smiled, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The young Gascon sheepishly met the eyes of his fellow brothers, particularly those of Aramis, the dark circles and red rims testament to sleepless nights and heightened emotions "are you alright?" he asked tentatively.

His response was a slow nod and a pale elegant hand patting the bed sheets in an invitation to sit, one which D'artagnan accepted gratefully desperate to alleviate some weight from his weary legs. Once he had settled next to his brother, he carefully rested a hand over Aramis' and squeezed in an attempt to comfort, "I am glad"

"As are we all" Athos agreed with an almost non-existent smile ghosting around his lips, "I for one cannot imagine life without you in it Aramis, it is no secret that I am not a model human being and I am unable to even begin to understand how to comport myself amongst others. I do not attempt to absolve myself of blame in all of this but I plead for understanding in my ignorance of your plight my brother. If I had known then I would have endeavoured to aid you."

Porthos beamed happily at Athos, surprised but pleased at the rare display of affection by his brother. "I as well apologise Aramis" he began "I was ignorant and neglectful in my care for you and while I am not as gifted with words as Athos, I will try to convey my regret tastefully."

Before he could continue, Aramis raised a thin finger to his lips, bidding them to be quiet as he gestured to D'artagnan who had gradually slid further down in the bed. His shining mahogany hair creating a blanket where his head lay upon Aramis' lap, having succumbed to the pull of sleep sometime during their conversation.

Smiling fondly down at the sleeping gascon he rested a hand upon his head and began stroking a hand through his hair, "I appreciate all your words and in some time maybe I shall come to believe them but we shall continue this conversation at some other point, once we are all well rested. Now Athos please would you consent to reading for us? I know it will help settle D'art and... I would appreciate it"

Startled Athos nodded and reaching into the bookshelf beside him, surfaced with a work of Shakespeare which he cracked open and lovingly caressing the pages of the tome began to read into the contented silence of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thankyou for continuing to read this guys! Don't forget to review and i'll have the next chapter up soon for you with the continuation of their conversation! :D


	11. A trip to the Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter eleven guys, enjoy :D

Swallowing thickly around his very dry throat, Athos grimaced at the prickling sensation and coughed harshly. 'Why do I feel as if I have been swallowing stones' he mused in bafflement, gently massaging the sore spot, a dull thump broke him from his reverie and his eyes fell upon the Shakespeare play by his feet. 'Ah' he hummed internally as he leant to pick up the fallen tome, 'that is what happened' he smiled fondly at the memory of Aramis asking him to read and then them all dropping off to sleep one after the other.

Flicking his eyes over to the bed he jolted into awareness as he saw rumpled sheets but no Aramis, D'artagnan lay sprawled like a starfish across the entirety of the bed, hair matted chaotically and fingers clenched tightly around the sheet. He pulled himself painfully out of the chair, legs dead and back protesting after a night spent unwisely in an uncomfortable position, staggering drunkenly across the floor towards the door.

This was typical Aramis behaviour, if anyone else was ill or injured then they would be in bed and come hell or high water he would be there, forcing them to relax and stay in bed until completely healed and bouncing off the walls with boredom, raring to get back to duty. Now if Aramis was ill, then nothing short of restraints or Porthos could keep him in bed for even one day once he felt he was capable of working, so he had little doubt that once he reached the courtyard outside he would find his wayward brother. Sure enough as he made his way down the Garrison steps he spotted a familiar figure slumped across the break table, head pillowed on leather clad arms.

Before he could reach his brothers side, Treville had come striding through the gates with a rather grim expression marring his face. "Athos, I am glad you are awake" he came to a halt beside his lieutenant "the King wants you on guard duty immediately, there has been a series of threatening messages left at the palace"

"I will collect the others and leave straight away Captain" Athos replied crisply, turning on his heel to wake up the others. Suddenly a voice came from behind them both "I shall wait here for you until you are ready" Aramis mumbled into his arms as remained face down upon the table.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not twenty minutes later and Athos, Porthos and D'artagnan had made their way down to the courtyard, armed to the teeth and in full regalia of the Kings Musketeers to be greeted by their injured brother standing waiting by the gate.

 "Aramis what are ya doin?" Porthos exclaimed exasperatedly "you shouldn be out of bed!"

"I am perfectly fine my big friend" Aramis smiled, tipping his hat at a jaunty angle and bending low into a showman like bow which he straightened from with great difficulty, breathing become harsh for a moment. "Besides a little birdie told me the King was asking after me and it would not do to disappoint"

Without much further ado the four of them were mounted and riding off into the streets of Paris on their respective steeds, racing towards the palace and their duty. Aramis grimaced in discomfort as a burning set up in his thigh from the steady jolting of their ride but he brushed it away impatiently, eager to return to duty and fill his mind with other thoughts than the previous days.

Their leathers and blue cloaks did little to provide the men with the necessary warmth to combat the chill of the December air, and by the time they arrived at the palace they were barely able to feel their fingers with their breath visible in the frigid air. Traipsing up the gravel path seemed to take an eternity and the King met them halfway in his anxiety "Ah my loyal Musketeers, how wonderful it is to see you so promptly".

They dismounted swiftly and in Aramis' case stiffly and stood to attention in front of Louis, removing their hats in respect "Your Highness" they responded. Aramis stumbled as he took a step back, leg giving partially away as he allowed too much weight to rest upon it, drawing the attention of the king to himself.

"Ah Aramis" the King exclaimed in delight "you have returned to us!" he clapped his hands happily and gestured to a servant that loitered nervously nearby. "You, bring me wine and a table, I wish to dine outside with my dear Musketeers!"

"Damn" Porthos cussed, rubbing his hands together in frustration and an attempt to warm himself up, "why is it that whenever we end up ere, we are outside in the cold on the whim of a barmy King"

"Peace Porthos" Athos soothed, "we can warm up later but for now we must do our duty"

Once settled around a lavishly set table piled high with pastries and tea, the King turned attentively towards Aramis and struck up a conversation. "So Aramis, where have you been? I was anticipating your amusing banter last time your fellow men were here on guard duty, I was most disappointed at your absence"

"I apologise Your Highness" Aramis replied softly, bowing his head "I was unavoidably detained by injury" subtle tremors began to shake his fingers where they gripped the handle of a teacup with too much force.

"How terrible" Louis exclaimed, obviously interested beyond measure by the gory details that may be forthcoming "what happened?"

"It was merely a gunshot wound Your Highness, a flesh wound to the thigh" Aramis' face continued to grow paler as the conversation proceeded, having reached the shade of a cadaver before it had finally become too much for him to bear. "Please excuse me Your Highness" he stated politely, voice wavering as he stumbled to his feet unsteadily, vision whiting out, his return to vertical occurring with too much haste as the surroundings where replaced by bloody snow and a dark forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for this chapter, it's a little brief and a bit of a filler but I hope you like it all the same! Next time we see another episode with Aramis and the reaction of the King and his brothers, please read and review and let me know what you think :D


	12. Louis' version of punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I got this done for this week, hopefully there will be another one this time next week but for now enjoy the new chapter. :D

Distantly Aramis registered a strong hand gripping him by the arm as he roamed aimlessly in the frigid wasteland of his mind, a voice calling his name lost in the roaring that filled his ears. The trees around him seemed to inch ever closer, the gaps between darkening ominously as sudden flashes of silver blinked in and out of existence.

"Marsac" he called blearily fighting the arms holding him back, a gnarled skeletal hand gripped the trunk of a tree so tightly that the cracking sound could be heard from miles away ricocheting off every available surface. As he squinted desperately, thick viscous blood began to ooze along the long fingers, feeding a puddle that was growing ever larger as it crept along the forest floor to his feet. Without even having to take another step he knew, just knew what he would find through those trees, as surely as he knew his own names and the words to the prayers he comforted himself with each night.

"Aramis" Athos' voice finally penetrated the haze that clouded his brain and he blinked rapidly to clear his blurry vision, tears that he hadn't even noticed tickling his skin as they rolled into his beard.

"Aramis calm yourself" hands landed on both his shoulders as his surroundings came into focus and his panicked eyes locked with the gentle, calming brown of Athos'. His breaths became gasps, as he battled to banish the memories floating far too close to the surface of the stormy sea that comprised his mind, threatening to drown him at any moment.

"I am fine Athos" he wheezed quietly, reaching up and covering Athos' hand with one of his own "I am fine"

The King took a couple of tentative steps forward from where he had been shamelessly loitering in an attempt to watch his soldiers breakdown. "What is going on?" he demanded arrogantly, hands resting pretentiously upon his hips as he shook his long hair back off his shoulders.

"I apologise for the shameful display Your Highness" Aramis managed to pant, bending awkwardly at the waist from where he sat prone on the snowy ground. How he had ended up sitting down he had not the foggiest but he regretted it, his bum was wet, wet and cold and getting wetter and colder as every second passed. Yet he could not force himself to his feet no matter how hard he tried his legs would not cooperate, unsurprising really considering he had a gaping hole in one of them.

"Nonsense, nonsense Aramis" Louis waved his hand flippantly "you are injured and I suspect not entirely healthy yet, all is forgiven"

The cheerful man bounced away to converse with his servants, and the Musketeers took advantage of this respite to smother their ailing brother with concern. Athos' sharp eyes spotted the tremors still racking Aramis' too thin hands and gripped them tightly between his own, rubbing furiously in an attempt to warm them up. "Why didn't you tell us that you were cold Aramis?" Porthos scolded good naturedly, pulling the slender man to his feet with disturbing ease and wrapping a strong arm about his shoulders.

"I wasn't, it just suddenly hit me as I was sitting there, and I could see him" he broke off shuddering violently "and I was alone"

Footsteps clicking along the pathway towards them interrupted their conversation and they turned as one to the approaching King. He was flanked by two maids weighted down under a massive mound of blankets which they dumped unceremoniously upon the seats they had previously been occupying.

"They are for you" Louis said gently, gesturing to the blankets and taking his own seat with typical majestic grace, "I hope that you will be more comfortable this way, for I really must insist that you remain with me until the threat has been neutralised"

The three men helped their wobbling brother take a seat and bundled him up in more blankets than he had ever seen in one place before, settling him gently into his chair and taking their own, Athos subtly maintaining contact with his brother by pressing their legs together.

"Now" Louis smiled widely, the reflection of the snow making his teeth gleam "tell me exactly what happened"

After sharing an uncomfortable look with his brothers, Athos grimaced and began to relay to the King the sordid details of their actions towards their brother in the recent weeks. As he slogged his way through the veritable quagmire of mistakes, they realised with terrifying clarity the true extent of their betrayal and felt a stab of guilt like a knife to the gut.

A look of genuine disbelief marred the King's features at the culmination of their sorry tale, to be replaced almost instantaneously by disappointment. "I thought better of you all" he exclaimed in shock "you always took much better care of each other than this, and worst of all to leave Aramis on his own!"

"We know Your Highness" Porthos growled lightly, "it should never have happened and will never happen again"

"Well I cannot allow this to go unpunished" Louis sighed, appearing genuinely regretful at his words but ploughing on regardless "I am taking you all off duty for the next month, and you shall be staying at my hunting lodge and not leaving until you have my express permission"

All three men sat dumbfounded for a few moments, unable to comprehend what exactly the King had just said. In all the time they had known him, Louis had only ever involved himself in the affairs of soldiers when they had angered him and in order to have them arrested. It was unheard of that he ever reward his soldiers with a holiday, a holiday of all things!

"I have no words Your Highness" Athos smoothly responded, bowing his head politely in thanks "we shall endeavour to meet the standards that you hold of us"

"Yes, you would do well to do so" Louis nodded, a maid practically vibrating with nerves approached and bent to address the King, scurrying away quickly once she had done so. "You may leave now my loyal Musketeers, the threat has been dealt with and I do not wish to see you here for another month are we understood?"

"Perfectly" the men chorused, swiping their hats from their heads and pressing them to their chests as they bowed and the King made his way exuberantly back to the palace and the warmth.

D'artagnan stifled a giggle and an involuntary noise as his eyes landed upon the sleeping form of Aramis, propped up awkwardly by the mound of blankets with his chin leaning upon his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 12 done! Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed every chapter, your reviews are so lovely and really push me to write :D Please carry on reading and review as well and let me know how you think it should go. Next chapter the journey to the lodge :D


	13. Hot Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I got this done really quickly so, enjoy :D

 

After twenty minutes sat in the same spot without movement and Athos finally admitted defeat, leaning across to gently shake Aramis awake, the others shifting awkwardly on numb bums. The sleeping man stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently and frowning in irritation at the annoyance.

"Go way, sleep" he whined grumpily, struggling beneath the blankets as he attempted to swat away the meddling hand interrupting his finally peaceful slumber.

The hand refused to cease its shaking and he blinked his eyes open blearily, eyelids feeling like lead weights as he battled to focus on Athos' bearded face hanging above him. He smiled faintly at his brother, realisation settling upon him as he soaked in the comfort of their presence, he was able to sleep soundly when his brothers were near.

"Aramis, we must go now" Athos cajoled gently, beginning to unwrap their brother from his carefully constructed nest, not missing the shivers that wracked his body as he was exposed to the frigid air.

"Upsy Daisy" Porthos chuckled at their tired friends antics and pulled him into a standing position, both strong hands gripping him tightly under the arms as he swayed dangerously. "Now don't you fall asleep on me again" he warned teasingly, draping an arm over his shoulders to support him, Athos taking up the other side as they made their slow loping way to the Palace gates.

D'artagnan was a couple of paces ahead of them, spinning on his heel smartly and almost skipping with delight as he walked backwards so he could still converse with his brothers. "Who would have thought the King would react like that eh?" he asked, arms raised and hands linked behind his head, elbows pointing outwards.

"Certainly not I" Athos drawled in response, the corner of his lips twitching upwards in amusement at their youngest's actions. "I was more inclined to believe we would be removed from duty, or given patrol for the next year"

"Well" D'artagnan replied with a cheeky grin on his tanned face, "there is still time for him to change his mind, and I wouldn't put it past him to do that when we get back"

At that moment, his booted heel caught upon a large rock and he went toppling backwards, landing with a muffled oomph as his bottom made contact with the solid ground. "Oww" he moaned unhappily, rubbing at the sore spot as he clambered to his feet.

Aramis could help himself no longer and a loud snort of laughter escaped his lips, growing louder until great peals of laughter surrounded them. "Only you D'artagnan, only you" he giggled even harder at the offended look on the Gascons face that slowly morphed into a sheepish smile.

D'artagnan inwardly bemoaned the pain that he felt, but it was made insignificant by the sheer joy that was bubbling within his chest at hearing Aramis laugh once more. Something that, upon recollection, he realised they had not heard in many, many months. So while he did not particularly enjoy his meeting with the ground, if it pleased his brother then it was worth it.

Amusement faded as Aramis began to wheeze harshly rather than laugh freely and Athos pressed his free hand to his chest, attempting to steady his brothers breathing. "You really should not have been moving about" he murmured softly, furrowing his brow in concern, "luckily we are not far from the Garrison where you may rest once more"

-Not ten minutes later and all four men had reached the Garrison gates, a weak and almost unconscious Aramis held up between them, boots scuffing along the floor. Treville was upon them immediately, worry poorly disguised in his tired blue eyes.

"The King?" he asked

"Safe" Athos reported smoothly "and back in the Palace with the Queen. There is nothing more that can be done for them and no other threat currently"

The Captain visibly deflated, relief evident in every aspect of his posture at the news that the man he had known from a baby was safe, for another day at least. Then his eyes landed upon the prone form of Aramis dangling like a puppet whose strings had been cut and he sighed in exasperation.

"There was no point in even trying to stop him" he shook his head tiredly "it is better to allow him to burn himself out, at least then he will stay in bed for a while"

He smiled ruefully and gestured towards the rooms that were allocated to the men of the regiment, they were of a decent size but lacked the homey touch that was necessary to give an apartment a feeling of being lived in. Each one was just big enough for a bed and a writing desk shoved up into the corner by the window so just enough light filtered through the curtains to illuminate anything the men might be working on. Most men could afford lodgings elsewhere, some like D'artagnan paid for a room in someone else's house, others purchased their own homes or rooms to live in whenever they returned from missions. Some men just were not able to afford the price of lodgings and the only option left to them was the Garrison.

Aramis had a room dedicated to him, that no matter how long he left for he could always come back to and was always only his, for he couldn't justify the expense of a room that he almost never used. Therefore his room was exceptional in the fact that he had decorated it in the way he wanted, in the corner there was a modest prayer altar. A velvety cushion was spread on the floor in front of it for use during prayers and it covered a sturdy bench, in the other corner of the room a chaise longue settled beside a stack of books with a thick blanket and pillow folded neatly upon it.

Athos kicked open the door to the familiar room and breathed in the slightly spicy scent of incense that lingered in the air, Porthos and he dragged Aramis over the threshold before gently depositing him upon the chaise longue and covering him with the blanket.

"Wha" Aramis mumbled tiredly as his head lolled limply to one side.

Treville came through the door holding a mug that gave off a very sweet scent and Aramis immediately perked up, reaching his arms out and making grabby hand motions towards it. The Captain smiled and handed it over obediently, watching as he sipped it in satisfaction.

"What is that?" D'artagnan asked in mystification

"That, is chocolat chaud or hot chocolate" Treville answered proudly

"It's very good" Aramis moaned happily "I have had it once before at Madame Adelynne's but it is so expensive I had never hoped to have it again"

He held the mug out to D'artagnan, smiling gently at his wide eyes and begging expression "here, try some"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well there's chapter 13! I hope you enjoy! Please read and review and thanks again for all the positive reviews! I'm glad you liked the Kings reaction, I wasn't sure how it would go but I'm so happy that people understood why i made Louis react that way :D


	14. Reminiscence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's Chapter 14, Enjoy :D

The sounds that emanated from D'artagnan's mouth bordered on obscene, noises that you wouldn't expect to hear outside of a man's private bedchambers, all from the taste of hot chocolate.

"God D'artagnan" Athos scolded in disgust, "control yourself"

"But it's so good!" the youngest gave another rapturous moan, clutching the mug tightly between both hands and coveting it as if it were his last worldly possession.

"Right that's it" Porthos had reached the end of his tether, surging to his feet and stretching out a massive spade like hand in an unspoken demand for their youngest to hand it over.

With a whine like a kicked puppy and the pathetic eyes to match he reluctantly passed the mug to his brother, plopping himself down on Aramis' bed, not bothering to ask for permission knowing that his friend would never refuse him.

He toed off the tight leather boots that were pinching slightly at his feet and flung himself backwards into a lying position, closing his eyes with a sigh of relief as tense muscles relaxed with warmth in his stomach. Not five minutes later and his breathing had evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep, the burdens of the world slipping away into the oblivion of Morpheus' realm.

Porthos smirked at the Gascon's sleeping form, "obviously chocolate was too much for him" he laughed taking a sip from the mug himself. As the thick, sweet liquid hit his taste buds his eyes widened in shock and he couldn't bite back the moan of appreciation that spilled from his lips.

"Damn" he swore softly "that's good stuff"

A raised eyebrow was the only response Athos gave, shaking his head at the ridiculous antics of his men. Having grown up in Pinon, he had encountered hot chocolate before in his life, his father possessing enough money with which to purchase it. He could only really recall one occasion however with shocking clarity, it was Christmas of his sixth year on earth he approximated, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace and his family gathered together for one of the last times he could ever remember. His father with his stern frown and salt and pepper beard was replaced by a much more jolly man, frown lines erased as a soft, doting smile stole across his features in the flickering firelight. His little brother Thomas barely three bouncing lightly beside him in his excitement, and the maid had walked in slowly and ever so carefully, balancing a silver tray laden with four silver mugs. Their father had taken one carefully in his hands and knelt gracefully next to his sons, addressing Athos gently he told him to try some and to help his brother try some too, being careful not to burn himself. He had done so, helping his baby brother to wrap his chubby little hands around the mug and bring it to his lips, giggling slightly at the chocolaty moustache left behind on both their faces.

That had been the last moment their father had spent with them in happiness and contentedness, never again could he remember sitting in warmth with his family and laughing innocently. The only person who had been a constant in his life was Thomas, the innocent light in the black abyss that constituted the hell of his existence as he was trained to become the perfect Comte.

His light until that too had been unceremoniously snuffed out.

Shaking his head forcefully in an attempt to dispel the distressing images filtering through his brain, knowing that they were bringing him too close to tears for comfort. Luckily it was not uncommon for him to be silent for long stretches of time, and therefore not a single one of his brothers had noticed anything out of the ordinary with his attitude, and he could re-start the conversation with little difficulty.

"We must rest and pack for our journey or else we shall be ill prepared and likely to forget something. Goodness knows D'artagnan complains enough when we forget even the simplest of items, do you remember when we left the blankets?" he asked, lips quirking in remembrance.

"Of course" Aramis laughed "how could I forget! He kept up that whining for at least a week and wouldn't cease with stealing MY blanket, as if it were my fault! I don't think i've been that cold for that long in my life" he shuddered lightly.

Instantly Porthos was on his feet, draping another thick woollen blanket over the top of the mountain already swamping their brother, giving a little nod of approval as he sat back down the chair groaning under the abrupt increase in weight.

Aramis raised an eyebrow in bemusement, "I really wasn't that cold mon ami"

"Well you looked it so no arguments, now go to sleep!" Porthos retorted.

"Fine, fine. So bossy." Aramis teased gently closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the cushioned back of the chair, lines of stress being erased as he relaxed "if you were a woman, that would be a positive"

Porthos flushed a ruddy pink as he struggled to maintain a grumpy frown when he really wanted to laugh heartily, afraid the noise would disturb the two sleeping men. Not long afterwards and with the silence in the room Porthos had dropped off to sleep himself, lulled by the steady rhythmic breathing of his brothers.

Athos pushed himself off from the wall he had been leaning leisurely against, one foot propped flat behind him, arms folded against his chest and made his way out of the room after gently stroking a hand over Aramis brow. Satisfied that his brother was only mildly feverish, not hot enough to be concerned over and sound asleep, he left to pack the bags that he knew wouldn't be done until at least the morning they were to leave if he didn't see to it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning once all four men were well rested, well in reality once Porthos, Aramis and D'artagnan were well rested for Athos had fallen back into bad habits, drowning his sorrows in alcohol and sitting alone in a melancholy fugue for hours on end until the sunlight began to filter through the clouds and tinge the courtyard a pleasant amber.

So, once three of the four men were well rested and awake enough to function without slurring words and fumbling fingers, they broke their fast with a big bowl of Serge's warm, albeit a little lumpy porridge and proceeded to tack up their horses. Porthos taking care of Aramis' after having deposited him upon a barrel and sternly admonishing him to stay there or he wouldn't hesitate to lash him to it.

Roger was deceptively docile as usual, reflecting the personality of his master to the point where Athos often stared at him in confusion, unsure of whether today would be a good day or a bad day, would he be bucked off or welcomed into the saddle.

Thankfully he managed to mount with little difficulty, Roger only shying slightly to the left as he settled, Aramis snickered from his barrel "lucky one there Athos, I was looking forward to seeing you land on your arse again, i'm sure you are still bruised from last time"

"I am indeed" he confirmed in aggravation, wincing slightly in remembered pain.

"Unfortunately, I am the one with the sore arse this time" D'artagnan whined unhappily, gingerly adjusting his seat in the saddle to accommodate what was sure to be extensive bruising after his run in with the path.

All three of them laughed heartily, picturing the youngest's spectacular fall once more.

"Yeah, yeah laugh it up" D'artagnan grumbled as he kicked his horse into motion, trotting smartly out of the Garrison gates.

"Is someone going to help me up?" Aramis asked as he stood a little wobbly in front of his own steed, "or shall I just try and hope I don't crack my head off the floor or the wall or any equally as hard and dangerous surface?"

A squeak of surprise echoed around the stable as Porthos hoisted him from the floor, arms wrapped around his waist and all but flung him upwards into the saddle, Aramis scrabbling for the saddle in a panic. The laughter was aimed at him again as he grumbled lowly to himself, hauling himself into a sitting position and straightening his clothes irritably, complaining about how Porthos had ruined his sash and doublet irreparably with creases.

With a swift kick to the flank of their steeds, the remaining three brothers rode swiftly through the gates of the Garrison, the awed members of the public staring after them with open mouths as an aura of majesty and dignity emanated from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There's Chapter 14! Sorry its late, I couldn't get it finished this weekend :(   
> I hope you enjoy it and please read and review :D Thanks to all of those who have reviewed already, they are really helpful to the writing process!:D Next chapter will be the boys journey to the Hunting Lodge.  
> Oh and I just thought you should know because it's very exciting!!! If you live in England, the Howard Charles is a guest at the London MCM Comic Con this October!!!!


	15. Fireside Chats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 15 guys! Enjoy :D

Four men trotted calmly down the road, silence reigning over the group as they entered their seventh hour of travelling. It seemed with every passing minute the temperature dropped rapidly, the already cold day becoming progressively colder, the men shrinking desperately within their clothing in an attempt to retain warmth.

"We have to stop soon Athos" Porthos called teeth chattering bitterly as he spoke, rubbing his hands together to generate heat as he relinquished his tight grip on the reigns. His eyes once again sliding to land upon Aramis as his concern increased. For the past two hours he had been glancing over to an uncharacteristically silent Aramis, despite the issues within their brotherhood, he had spent the first half of the journey cracking jokes and being his usual jovial self. That had gradually petered out however and although this was nothing unusual in the frigid weather it had become cause for concern as the temperature continued to drop. Before they left he had personally ensured that his brother was wrapped in enough warm clothing to practically smother him but even this was not enough to keep one warm in France’s bitter winters. Finally Aramis had reached his breaking point, jokes fading into silence and body slumping tiredly forwards onto his horse’s neck, hands tucked beneath his arms as shivers wracked his body.

"The nearest inn is about half an hour's journey from here, we can make it until then" Athos called over his shoulder as he spurred his horse into faster movement.

"Athos" Porthos called again angrily, bringing his horse to a stop and grabbing the reigns of Aramis' as he drew level with him. "We need to stop... now"

Hearing the warning tone in his brothers voice Athos circled round  and came to stand in front of his brothers, "what is it Porthos?"

"Aramis is too cold, we all are. If we do not stop soon we will all end up ill and then we will be of no use to anyone. The entire purpose of this journey is to repair our relationship with Aramis, how are we meant to do that if we cannot function ourselves." he exclaimed in exasperation.

A slow and solemn nod was the only response Athos gave for the moment, turning his gaze upon the forest surrounding them and then the path stretching into the horizon. "We will rest here for a few hours and then continue on, staying here for too long would be as dangerous for us as it would be to travel on"

Porthos exhaled sharply in relief and nodded in affirmation, leading their horses slowly off the path and into the trees until they reached a suitable clearing. The trees were less densely packed here, the ground made of hard packed dirt that was excellent for supporting the base of a fire and as an impromptu bed for the night, D’artagan hastily scrubbed a branch along the ground in an attempt to clear away some of the inches of snow that had built up. Once a little cosy camp had been set up, a small fire crackling valiantly away with a pot of water bubbling merrily on top and blankets spread in copious amounts across the ground, Porthos tramped over to where Aramis had yet to dismount from his horse, a steadily growing pile of powdery snow weighing his hat down at the front and threatening to tip it off entirely.

"Come on, off yer get" he said gruffly, helping his frozen friend to swing his leg over the horse and steadying him when he wobbled slightly on firm ground. "You will be warm soon enough"

"Thankyou mon ami" Aramis stammered breathily, teeth chattering violently as they stumbled their way through the frozen water, the bane of his existence and something he would gladly dare to incinerate if such a thing was possible.

D'artagnan wrapped a blanket around his shoulders as they lowered him into a sitting position on a handily placed log, it even had a little indentation Aramis noticed, almost as if it had been purpose made for someone's backside, how handy!

"I hate this weather" he declared emphatically, narrowing his eyes and glaring at the ground "what is it even good for! It gets ridiculously cold, so much so that ice falls from the sky and proceeds to freeze everyone's extremities off and what for I ask you, nothing"

Porthos chuckled deeply as he attempted to rub some feeling back into his friends frozen hands, "well that partially explains why you hate the cold, but not entirely and I have always wondered"

Silence fell. Not even a single bird could be heard chirping in the trees as the four men sat tense and motionless in the wake of that deceptively innocent question. Athos quietly lowered himself onto the log beside Aramis and draped an arm around his shoulders as an aura of discomfort permeated the air.

"I just... ever since... I can't" Aramis trailed off in frustration, balling his free hand into a fist and shaking his head as he attempted to order his thoughts. Athos squeezed his shoulder comfortingly and Aramis sucked in a deep breath.

"Savoy" he exhaled quietly, "I spent... _hours..._ " his breath hitched and tears lingered in his voice. "Hours alone, just lying in the snow and I could not stop trembling. Bodies surrounding me on all sides and dead eyes staring through the whiteness spotted with red. I... Marsac was gone and I was left prone with a head wound, reality blurred and all that was left was the snow, the cold" His words trailed off and he stared with deadened eyes into the flames that danced before him.

"Oh Mis" D'artagnan sighed "why didn't you say anything!" he pressed a mug of tea into the trembling hands and smiled sadly. "When we get back to France i'm buying you a very, very thick blanket!"

"Thankyou" Aramis smiled gratefully, sipping at the hot aromatic beverage "but it really is not necessary"

"Nope" D'artagnan shook his head "you can't stop me, i'm buying you one" he stuck his tongue out playfully and was gifted with an exasperated shake of the head.

They settled into a companionable silence, Aramis leaning tiredly into Athos, eyelids drooping tiredly in the comfort of his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay everyone! School got on top of me :( However... it is half term, so hopefully I should be able to update a couple of times this week maybe :D Thanks for all the reviews and as usual let me know what you think :D


	16. The Lodge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

After the delightfully emotional conversation that had taken place between the men not two hours earlier, they had packed up their impromptu camp and forced their protesting bodies into the saddle once more. By now the sun was setting, the golden globe sinking slowly almost as if through butter on the horizon, setting the countryside aglow with a sea of reds and gold giving an almost ethereal shine to their surroundings.

As all four men rounded the next bend in the perpetually wonky road, the hunting lodge that was their destination came into sight in the distance. A long winding gravel driveway with a wrought iron gateway led the way towards a palatial lodge, golden ornamental pieces peppered the facade of the glistening white marble building, the light reflecting with a blinding force into their faces.

"Wow" D'artagnan breathed in awe, heart pounding practically in his mouth as they stared at such opulence never before seen by the eyes of a commoner, particularly not a Gascon like himself. "The life of a King eh" he giggled, "it is most ridiculous but I almost want to start dancing around" Athos planted both hands on the young man's shoulders, steady weight pressing down and forcing both his feet to remain on the floor "I would really rather you did not, that would be almost as aggravating as watching Aramis float around like a lovesick puppy when he does" he drawled with a small smile pulling up the left side of his lips.

"Excuse me!" Aramis exclaimed indignantly, hands propped upon his hips and head canted to the side "I take offense to that description, I do not float, I glide gracefully"

"Sure ya do Mis" Porthos chuckled deeply "sure ya do, come on lets go inside and see whether all this" he gestured disdainfully to the gaudy gold miniature palace "continues inside"

The four tramped their way through the entrance hall, heavy boots dropping clumps of dust as they passed and the small Cuban heels clicking pleasantly on the marble floor, echoing musically in the cavernous room. Their footsteps became suddenly muffled and they glanced down to see a thick embroidered carpet had replaced the white marble, gold thread forming intricate fleur-de-lis against the blood red backing.

Aramis gleefully toed off his boots and hopped awkwardly on one foot and then the other as he pulled off his socks and buried his toes in the thick cushiony carpet, sighing with unconcealed bliss as it blanketed his aching feet. "Aramis" Athos groaned exasperatedly "the Kings carpet, really?" "Try it Athos, it's _so_ comfortable!" was his only response and so with a roll of their eyes, they all followed suit, boots held in one hand as they carried on exploring.

After having passed through a multitude of solid oak doorways with hinges and handles forged from fancy metals, they finally settled down in a cosy little library with two armchairs, a chaise longue and a few settees. D'artagnan let out a low squeal of excitement and launched himself onto one of the settees, bouncing slightly as he landed, arms clutching a cushion to his chest as he rubbed his cheek against the soft velvet. "They're so soft" he whispered in awe.

Porthos crouched in front of the fireplace and began stacking sticks in a pyramid to start a fire, keeping his back carefully turned to Aramis to give Athos an opportunity to talk with him in relative privacy.

Despite having rested on the way it was entirely unsurprising that by the time they had finished traipsing around the lodge, climbing up and down stairs and meandering up and down corridors, Aramis was flagging. He could barely seem to keep his eyes open and was working on autopilot, so Athos wrapped an arm around his shoulders and lead him slowly to the settee. He sat him down and set about removing his weapons belt, doublet and trousers so he would be comfortable, "Wha you doin 'Thos?" Aramis slurred sleepily in confusion as he blinked blearily up at him, "getting you comfortable so you can rest, you are still recovering"

"No I mean, what are you doing?" he reiterated, catching Athos hand with his own as he reached out to place a cushion for his head.

Athos sighed and squeezed his brothers hand comfortingly, "what I am doing is helping you, like a brother should do, like I should have done before! I love you Aramis, I know that this is not a conventional way to behave but it is true, I lost one brother I do not wish to lose another so I promise you, I will never let you down like this again"

Aramis' mouth dropped open in surprise, eyes welling with tears at the heartfelt words from his stoic brother and launched himself at the man, wrapping his arms around Athos' waist and burying his face in his neck. Athos startled but wrapped his arms firmly around the tactile man and squeezed tight, resting his cheek on the soft curls, the comfortable silence was broken by Aramis whispering in a heartfelt manner "you will never lose me Athos, no matter what".

A couple of moments later they broke their embrace and Athos helped Aramis lie down comfortably on the settee, head resting on a cushion and draped a blanket across his body, tucking it right up to his chin to keep out the cold.

"Sleep Aramis, we will all be here" Athos murmured as he ran a soothing hand through dark curls that were sticking to a slightly over warm forehead. At an almost inaudible murmur from Aramis, Athos chuckled fondly and made his way over to one of the bookshelves that lined the walls, "alright if you insist"

He picked one at random and sat in the chair next to Aramis, cracked open the satisfyingly old book and began to read from the curling, brown aged pages, squinting at the ornate, cursive writing. Silence fell upon the room with the only noise being Athos' deep, cultured voice as he read to the injured man and Porthos and D'artagnan sat quietly together. They would have a big day tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay but I have had so much on and just got terrible writers block with this chapter! Here it is though, and I hope you like it! As usual just let me know what you think :D


	17. What a bed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey! I felt bad for not updating for so long so, two chapters in one week yay! Enjoy.

Porthos peered tiredly into the dim room, smiling gently at the sight of Athos slumped in his chair chin resting on his chest and book dangling precariously from senseless fingers. Levering himself to his feet he gracefully made his way over to his brothers and draped a blanket over Athos, gently extricating the book and placing it quietly on the table. A distressed murmuring from said brother froze him in place for a moment, staring wide eyed at his sleeping form and sighing in relief when he merely let out a contented sigh and snuggled deeper into the warmth of the blanket.

He chuckled in amusement at his brothers antics and turned to check on Aramis' condition, startling at the pair of chocolate eyes staring at him, fire reflecting in dancing waves in his irises. Pressing a hand to his heart he bent over slightly and exhaled sharply in relief "Jesus Mis, you scared me half to death!" he exclaimed.

When no reply was forthcoming he lowered himself gently to sit next to Aramis and brushed a hand soothingly through his tangled curls, "what are you doing awake Mis?" he whispered softly in concern. Aramis leant his face into the comfort of Porthos' cool palm, eyes closed in exhaustion "couldn' sleep" he mumbled "alone, nightmares"

At that revelation Porthos groaned in self reproach, yet again they were failing their brother, not only had they ignored him like imbeciles but they had forgotten that in this state he would wish for company.

"It is not your fault 'Thos" Aramis smiled gently "you did your best, it cannot be expected that you would think of everything" he broke off into a cough and Porthos rubbed his back gently.

"You my friend are far too forgiving" he sighed in fond exasperation "now let's get you in a bed, we can either do this the easy way or the way that you really wont like"

"Urgh, let's go with the easy way, I don't think I have the energy for the latter" Aramis laughed as Porthos slipped one arm beneath his knees and the other behind his back before lifting him in one smooth motion to rest against his chest.

"D'art?" Porthos called questioningly over his shoulder as Aramis gripped one hand firmly onto the collar of his shirt and his head lolled tiredly.

"Yes" D'artagnan piped up immediately from his corner of the room "what can I do?"

"Ha, I knew you were awake through all this, pup" Porthos laughed deeply, chest rumbling with deep vibrations that rumbled through Aramis in a comforting wave "now run to the kitchen and fetch cold water, alcohol and cloths for me would ya?"

"Absolutely" D'art nodded enthusiastically, following his two brothers out the door and parting ways at the marble staircase.

Porthos made his slow steady way up the next spiralling staircase, huffing slightly with exertion "you've put on weight Mis, this is getting harder than it used to be" he joked lightly.

The corridor they walked down was narrow and dark, surprising for the quarters of a King but then again it was meant for hunting, so being overly lavish was unfaithful to the real life of the common people that Louis craved so much to experience. However he could not entirely detach himself from the lifestyle of a King, candlelight reflecting off the jewel encrusted candle brackets and the thick ornately carved doors and handles mitigated all efforts of subtlety and frugality.

The bedroom at the end of the hall was obviously the King's personal quarters, red silken sheets decorated a bed that was adorned with the fattest pillows Porthos had ever seen, along with a multitude of animal furs which had evidently not been conquests of the tragically unskilled King. The carpet was even more of a delight than that which blanketed the downstairs floor, the same fleur-de-lis pattern was joined by swords, muskets and the more traditional hunting accoutrements such as bows and arrows, Porthos' feet leaving deep indentations behind as he walked across the room.

"Awright" he grunted in exertion, "let go of me now"

Aramis reluctantly released his steely grip on the linen of Porthos' shirt as he was lowered slowly onto the bed in a sitting position, he breathed deeply through his nose in an attempt to dispel the nausea that rose up in a bitter wave in the back of his throat from the sudden change in position and groaned miserably.

"Are you gonna be sick" Porthos observed him with concern etched in deep lines on his face, dark eyes swimming with guilt.

"Nah, just give me a minute" he croaked in response, swallowing rapidly to not throw up over his brothers feet.

Porthos' giant hands began, with surprising gentility, to undo the belt on Aramis' trousers. Pulling them carefully over too narrow hips, he gently stroked his fingers over the flesh around the bandages, sighing in relief when he felt no abnormal heat from his skin.

A quiet eep from the doorway alerted them to D'artagnan's presence in the doorway, tan skin flushing delicately at the compromising sight before him.

"Sorry" he squeaked in embarrassment, tripping forwards awkwardly over the threshold and thrusting the bowl of water he was carrying into Porthos' waiting hands "I didn't mean to intrude"

Porthos burst into deep peals of laughter at the awkward expression on their youngests face, "It's not like that puppy" he chortled "jus checking his wound"

D'art nodded rapidly in relieved understanding, sitting on the bed beside a drooping Aramis and carefully unwrapping the bindings on his gunshot wound, he whistled lowly through his teeth at the puckered flesh revealed.

"That looks painful" he murmured in appreciation, watching as Porthos gently dabbed at the stitches with a damp cloth, wiping away dried blood that could cause infection if left, inciting sharp exhalations of pain from Aramis through tightly clenched teeth.

"Funnily enough it is" Aramis snapped back in frustration, immediately looking apologetically at his youngest brother, regretting his harsh words.

The wounded look on D’artagnan’s face was reminiscent of a kicked puppy, all large watery eyes and droopy lips, tugging at the heartstrings of the two older men.

“I’m sorry” Aramis groaned miserably, face whitening as Porthos wrapped a clean bandage tightly around his thigh.

“It’s okay ‘Mis” D’artagnan smiled sadly, “I know you didn’t mean it”

Finally finished with bandaging Aramis’ wound, Porthos then began to pull off his doublet and unbutton the first few buttons on his shirt in an attempt to make him comfortable, face creasing in concern at the visible collarbones and jutting ribs. Once finished he lay his friend back onto the mattress, smiling softly as he gave a luxurious sigh and melted bodily into the support.

“Move over ‘Mis” D’artagnan chirped brightly, sitting himself down on the bed and beginning to pull off his own clothes.

When the wounded man had shifted as much as was possible for him in his state, D’artagnan lay down beside him, arm flung over his chest and head resting on his shoulder, Porthos pulled the blankets up around them and stood back with a smile, hands resting on his hips as he watched them sleep peacefully.

Glad that for now, someone was with Aramis and he wouldn’t be alone with his nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay that’s Chapter 17, still can’t believe I’ve written this much! Anyway, Aramis is slowly on his way to forgiving, although he never was really all that mad at Porthos in the first place. Next chapter the shenanigans in the hunting lodge! I hope that will be done this weekend for you guys, as usual thank you so much for your positive reviews, I’m glad you like this as much as I like writing it! Please let me know what you think. :D


	18. Where's Athos?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another chapter! Enjoy!

Athos groaned as a throbbing ache penetrated through the haze of sleep, dragging him reluctantly into the land of the living, rather painfully so it must be said.

"Damn that must have been strong wine" he muttered, cracking open blurry eyes to peer blearily at the room, "so strong that I seem to have misplaced my house"

Confusion coloured his tone as he moved further towards being completely awake, gazing at the ash of the fire that he didn't own and the bookshelves crammed with books he most certainly didn't buy, attempting to decipher where exactly he was. The sight of a thick novel laying haphazardly on a low table next to his chair brought memories flooding back and he bolted upright in seconds, frantically searching the room for his brothers.

“Porthos?” he queried, squinting at the now open doorway through which a gentle light filtered through, the small candle illuminating Porthos’ face as he stepped into the room.

“Yeh it’s me” he replied with a smile, “I thought you might be awake, I could hear you thinking from upstairs”

Bracing his hands against the armrests of the chair, Athos hoisted himself upright to the tune of loud cracking from his protesting knees and back. Once standing he moaned lowly and pressed a hand to his lower back, bending forward slightly.

“You alrigh there ‘Thos?” Porthos chuckled, crossing the room to grab the swaying lieutenant by the arm.

“Remind me never to sleep in a chair ever again” he muttered ruefully in response “I am far too old for this”

Porthos slung his arm around his brother’s waist, helping him walk on numb legs as they made their way up the stairs in almost pitch black, the inky darkness swallowing their retreating forms.

“Nah, you’re not that much older than us ‘Thos” Porthos teased gently.

“But you admit that I am old” Athos countered with a raised brow.

They had reached the enormous, ornate door that guarded the room which housed their other brothers and Porthos refrained from responding as he focused his attentions on opening the door as quietly as he could on its creaky hinges.

The sudden abundance of light that flooded the room, however soft it was provoked a mournful groan from Athos as his eyes were attacked by hundreds of tiny rapiers wielded by sadistic candles that littered all available surfaces.

“Come on ya big booby” was all he heard as his brother guided him without protest to what he assumed was an extremely large bed, considering he couldn’t bear to open his eyes and check he contented himself with feeling around with questing hands. He snatched them back quickly when one met a soft lump, startled by the presence of an indiscernible something with him in the bed.

It took him a while but his aching brain finally managed rational thought and he released a deep sigh at the realisation that the soft human feeling lump was most likely to be Aramis. He said as much to Porthos who just regarded him with a searching look for a few seconds before speaking.

“Geez, you must be really out of sorts if it took you, Captain deduce-it-all, that long to figure it out”

He managed a half-hearted glare through slitted eyes “I’m not… out of sorts” he muttered distastefully, seeming appalled at the prospect “I merely have a headache thank you very much, nothing serious or that I cannot handle by myself. Although I am puzzled as to the cause.”

After thinking on it for a few moments he gave up as the pain in his head gave a relentless throb, resolving that he couldn’t care in the least why it was there, only that it _was_ there and it bloody hurt.

Large hands cradled his head gently as he was eased down onto the bed, melting bonelessly into the soft sheets beneath him. Porthos’ surprisingly gentle fingers began to massage his scalp and temples in slow circular motions, kneading the tension from his skull. A very inappropriate groan was pulled from his lips in ecstasy as the pain began to recede to a more manageable level, more of a dull thumping than a legion of drummers.

“Must ave been stress” Porthos murmured gently, “you’ve ad too much on your plate lately ‘Thos”

He just hummed quietly in reply, lacking the energy for anything else and barely even twitched as he felt covers being draped over his body, tucked around his shoulders and a warm arm lying across his body as Porthos bulk joined him on the bed.

“Sleep ‘Thos” he commanded, “you need it”

Barely five minutes later the room was silent, save for the sound of peaceful breathing and the sputtering of candle wax as they began to reach the end of their lifespan, one by one being extinguished and casting the room into darkness. Unconsciously Athos relaxed even further in sleep as light was removed from his eyelids and he could finally sleep completely undisturbed.

When they woke up in the morning they would find that they had all managed to shift positions in the night and become a tangle of limbs in the middle of the bed. D’artagnan lying face down with his head buried in Aramis’ shoulder and arms and legs spread out starfish like, arm draped over both Aramis and Athos. Aramis lay curled on his side, head underneath Athos’ chin and bodies pressed tightly together in a comforting embrace. Finally Porthos lay to the left of Athos, one large arm encompassing all of his brothers and pulling them closer to him and each other, legs tangled up in a knot that they wouldn’t look forward to untangling.

What would be most unbearable however was the heat, but they could put up with that.

They were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow I have never written so much so fast! Thanks so much for the positive response to this and I hope this was good for all you Athos lovers! Please let me know what you think and I hope to have another Chapter for you this weekend! :D


	19. Heatwave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here is Chapter 19 after a bit of a long wait, sorry! Enjoy :D

Athos was the first of the four to return to his senses, despite having been one of the last to enter Morpheus' realm the previous evening. He put it down to his unexpected nap and the sheer amount of stress Aramis had put him through.

The heat that surrounded him was similar to that experienced when sitting too close to a campfire during a mission in the frozen woodlands of Paris, desperation to be warm warring with the uncomfortable prickling feeling of excess heat and being roasted alive. It was not all that surprising therefore that he began to wriggle uncomfortably, freezing when arms that he hadn't noticed wrapped around his waist tightened, and pulled him closer to another warm body, a small frozen nose nuzzling in to his neck as dark curls tickled his nose.

"Damnit" he cursed softly, huffing out a put upon breath at the impossible position he was in. It was clear that Aramis had not been sleeping when he was alone and yet here he was desperate to get out of bed with a sleeping Aramis sprawled on top of him. He couldn’t bear to disturb the peaceful rest of his brother, knowing the pain and tribulations the world would bring him but unfortunately he had a pressing need that was making staying where he was rather difficult.

“Wassit?” a sleepy grumble floated over him from behind his head, the owner of the voice clearly not entirely awake. After having registered that it was D’artagnan’s hand that was fisted in the material of his shirt, he realised that it could only be Porthos behind him who had asked the question.

“Need to get up” he groaned in response “Mis is in the way, come to think of it though you all are” He began to impatiently pull his legs out of the knot that had formed at the end of the bed, uncaring of whose shins he gave a solid kick to, as long as it wasn’t Aramis’ because that would have just been cruel.

“A’right you grumpy so and so” Porthos chuckled, pushing himself up onto an elbow to survey the complex puzzle that was the pile of brothers “I think we can get you out without wakin im”

He gently reached over and uncurled D’artagnan’s fist where it had a vice like grip on Athos shirt and gently lay it down beside him before turning to Aramis. As carefully as he could he began to slowly shift Aramis legs until they were lying flat side by side and then unlocked his arms from around Athos’ waist. Both conscious men froze in place at the low whine the sleeping man emitted, tossing his head slightly in distress before sighing softly and settling back to sleep. Athos and Porthos let out a breath they didn’t even know they had been holding and shared a relieved look as Porthos finally detached Aramis from his brother and tucked the blankets carefully around him.

Porthos turned around to Athos, a smirk on his lips “there you go Mr impatient…” he trailed off as the tail end of Athos’ breeches whipped out the door, the man having leapt out of bed and hared out of the room as fast as he could.

Big belly laughs could be heard echoing around the room as Porthos threw his head back and roared with laughter, unable to contain himself at Athos’ uncharacteristic show.

“Porthos?”

Silence fell immediately in the room.

“Aww shit Mis, I didn’t mean to wake you” Porthos apologised, a guilty look on his face “how are you feeling?”

The bed dipped as the big musketeer sat down on the edge and Aramis rolled slightly towards him, unable to stop his momentum he ended up almost crashing into Porthos. Big hands grabbed him gently by the shoulders, settling him more securely against the pillows.

“It’s alright mon amis, you didn’t wake me, Athos kicked me ages ago” he revealed with a cheeky smile.

“So you were awake that whole time you rascal!” he gave his friend a gentle nudge in a jesting reprimand, glad that he felt well enough to mess around with them.

“I couldn’t be bothered to get up and besides it was much too amusing watching you both attempt to untangle us, why ruin free entertainment?” Aramis gave a graceful shrug as if to say what do you expect and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Umm, getting up?” Aramis asked uncertainly.

“No, you know what happens now” Athos stated dryly as he walked calmly through the door, fully clothed and looking a lot less ruffled and more like his usual straight laced self. A thick cloth bundle weighted down his left hand and with his right he was cradling a bowl of water and some cloths which he dropped unceremoniously onto the bed beside Porthos.

The injured man fixed them both with his best pathetic puppy dog eyes, attempting to look as pitiable as possible in an attempt to avoid what was coming next.

“Oh no you don’t” Porthos scolded with a chuckle “that don’t work on us and you know it”

“Yes, we aren’t the women that you charm Mis” Athos seconded.

A tense twenty minutes later and the ordeal was over, Aramis breathing a sigh of relief as he was released from his friends clutches. It never bothered him the getting injured part, if it was to protect his friends then he would deal with any pain, it was the aftercare that really got on his nerves. If there was one thing he hated it was forcing his friends to care for him, particularly if they were in a bind themselves. Plus one of his worst vices was pride, he wanted his brothers to know that he was capable of caring for himself.

"Mis you with us?" Porthos' voice filtered slowly through the mire of thoughts floating in his head and he blinked lethargically up into his friends scarred face, warm hands cupping his face.

"Hmm, oh yes" he murmured distractedly smiling at the concern that sent a flare of warmth shooting through his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry about this chapter, I have had very little time and couldn't write as much as I wanted to! Luckily it's the Christmas hols now so I should have more time despite having to revise so I should hopefully be able to update more often! As usual let me know what you think :D


	20. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy :D

If he had to guess, Aramis would have wagered that even a stampeding herd of wild horses wouldn't have been enough to wake D'artagnan before he was good and ready. He had managed to sleep through the entire debacle going on around him and it wasn't until the scent of roasting meat reached him that he returned to the land of the living.

A sleepy moan was the first sign of his regaining consciousness and Aramis turned to smile fondly down at their youngest, giving a bright wave when he blinked open his eyes and peered blearily up at him.

"Aramis!" he cried happily, rolling over to plant his head in his lap and wrap his arms around his waist.

The rich sound of laughter echoed around the room as the Gascon snuggled closer to his brother, right up the moment his stomach roared like a lion in distress about to pounce upon some unsuspecting prey, namely Aramis' hand if he wasn't careful.

"Someone is hungry" Aramis teased gently, "was it the stew that woke you?" he gestured to the half empty bowl of rabbit stew that was sitting abandoned on the bedside table.

"Mmmm" was the only reply he received as a tanned arm stretched over him and snatched the food up, shovelling what was left into his mouth.

A creaking noise rent the air as the door swung open with harsh complaint, Athos and Porthos striding into the bedroom with their own bowls clutched in their hands, Porthos holding two.

"Whatever did that poor door ever do to you to deserve such harsh treatment?" Aramis teased softly, attempting to regain some sense of normalcy if he could.

"It was in my way, that is all" Athos drawled as he took a seat in a sturdy oak chair and began to eat his own meal in an extremely dignified fashion, fitting so perfectly with the noble surroundings despite the worn leathers.

"Could you not even wait for your own food lad" Porthos rumbled "you had to steal Mis'"

"I was hungry!" D'artagnan protested

"Yeah, Yeah. We all know what you're like when you're hungry, ruled by his stomach this one"

A comfortable silence fell in the sizeable room as the men focussed their attention on their food, all having had enough experience with the cramping pains of hunger to never willingly miss a meal. Not twenty minutes later the three healthy men were supporting their injured comrade as he was his usual stubborn self and insisted upon leaving his bed before he really was supposed to, the world tilting dizzyingly before his eyes and forcing his brothers to grip his arms tightly as he wavered.

"Remind me again why we are letting you carry on with this foolishness?" Athos' voice was heavy with exasperation as they once again stopped Aramis from planting his pretty face into the floor.

"Because we are pathetic sods who can't resist his puppy dog eyes" Porthos responded around a grunt of exertion "but we also know that if we were to refuse to help him, he would do it anyway, most likely breaking himself in the process"

Aramis tilted his head weakly to one side and levelled a glare at his brothers, "I can hear you, you know"

"Oh we know" Athos assured him "we hope that maybe if we say it enough times in your earshot it may get through to you"

D'artagnan who was waiting ahead of them with the front door held open in preparation, could not hold back a giggle at their antics, receiving his own glare from Aramis for his efforts.

The sound of birds singing greeted the four men as they finally managed to leave the lodge for the first time since they had arrived, the weak winter sun peeked tremulously through the trees, bravely warming the too pale skin of their wounded brother. A contented sigh spilled from Aramis' lips as he tilted his head back to bask in the warmth, gripping tightly to Porthos' hand where it was clasped within his own, keeping him standing strong and steady.

"Porthos" Aramis asked quietly into the peace

"Yes Mis"

"Will we be alright?"

Silence reigned, as the four men gazed out on the rolling hills. White snow blanketed the surroundings, with patches of winter flowers bravely poking their heads above their coverings and blades of green grass jutting straight up like frozen emerald icicles. The trees stood like skeletal sentinels, standing guard over the convalescing men.

"Of course we will" Porthos smiled back fondly "all families have their ups and downs, and just like always we will heal. It may take some time, and you may feel angry and hurt a lot of the time but we will get past this because we are family!"

Aramis stared blindly into the distance, eyes flickering with the ghosts of his past. He blinked and shook his head sharply to bring himself back into the present, smiled weakly at his brothers.

"I think it is a perfect day to go for a ride" he blurted out suddenly, spreading his arms wide to encompass their surroundings "I want to explore"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the brevity of this chapter but I do not have much time, I hope you like it and next chapter we will see an altercation between the boys! Will it end in reconciliation however?


	21. Pretty as a Picture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 21 guys, enjoy :D

It had taken a ridiculously long time to saddle their horses to comply with Aramis' wish to explore. Mainly due to Aramis being his usual frustrating self in refusing to just sit back and allow them to get on with it; the hay bale he had been placed upon was too scratchy, they were tacking up all wrong, he was bored.

Finally Porthos had had enough and thrust a saddlebag into their twitchy friends restless hands and demanded that he check they had enough food and ammunition for their trip, even though they wouldn't be going far and hopefully they wouldn't be encountering any trouble.

"I do know you are merely attempting to distract me you know my friend" Aramis smirked with a raised eyebrow.

"I know, but maybe if we distract you with this then we could actually set out before sunset hmm"

Aramis grumbled softly but began to obediently unpack and pack the saddlebag again, pulling out crisp red apples and a couple of loaves of bread, a few skins of wine and water and a couple of bags filled with musket balls. A smile lit up his face as his searching fingers connected with something soft and squidgy... cake!

"Right come on then" Athos stated, hauling Aramis to his feet and chucking the bag unceremoniously at D'artagnan's face, who caught it with a scowl, strap having lashed him in the face. "Time to get you mounted and exploring"

He managed to get one trembling foot into the stirrup and with his hands clutching to the pommel of the saddle, attempted to haul himself up. After a couple of tries he was exhausted, entire body drenched in sweat as he shook with the cold and admitting defeat just stood there resting his head against his horses warm flank, eyes closed and cursing his weakness.

"Come on you stubborn fool" Porthos breathed in exasperation, grasping him around the waist and hoisting him up onto his horse in one smooth motion that regardless left Aramis gasping with vertigo and clutching tightly to the hands that held him steady in his seat.

"Thankyou my friend" he murmured weakly, patting his hands and then he pulled himself together with a deep breath, forcing a jovial expression and grasping his reigns.

"Are you alright Mis?" Athos asked in concern, ever the pragmatic one and concerned that he would not make it for even a short trip.

"I am fine thankyou, I wish to explore"

With those final words, Aramis urged his horse forwards and made his way into the grounds of the lodge.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful winters day, the kind of day that Aramis savoured, with a beauty and crispness that allowed one a closeness with God that couldn't be gained at any other time. For how could such beauty be anything other than the work of a higher power. The tall forest at the edge of the grounds was tightly packed with towering trees coated in a glistening covering of crystal snow, a coating  that extended over the entirety of land as far as the eye can see, with only sporadic patches of green poking through as the land bravely attempted to thaw. The only word that he could think of to describe this picture perfect moment was beautiful, if he only had the talent he would put this landscape onto paper and hang it in his room at the Garrison, a lovely reminder of the beauty that the world could bring.

On the other hand, maybe that wouldn't be such a wonderful thing to have in his room, a reminder of a snowy forest when he's trying to get to sleep probably would not be such a good idea. As they travelled further away from the lodge the snow grew thicker and their horses became a little spooked, hooves sinking deep and finding it a little difficult to step.

As it became exceedingly difficult to calm their steeds all four men reigned them in and headed into the forest without needing to communicate their intentions. Underneath the protective arms of the trees the biting wind was obstructed and they no longer felt as if their clothes would be ripped from their bodies. Aramis sighed in relief as they were released from the icy fingers of the wind and the ghosts of his lost friends drifted away, he smiled as he breathed in the crisp fresh air and spread his arms out wide beside him.

"You havin fun there Mis?" Porthos chuckled as he observed his friends antics, it had been too long since their friend had been so carefree and to see him like this warmed his heart.

"Yes Porthos!" Aramis cried with a laugh "it's all so beautiful"

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I think it is about time we headed back" Athos called out from his place at the front of their little group, "it's getting dark and too cold"

Indeed night was beginning to fall, the sun glowing a beautiful red and gold hue as it sunk below the horizon. In the depths of the forest darkness fell even faster, the tall trees which before had seemed like a protective covering now served to cast even darker shadows. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to see the path in front of them and Athos feared that even if they did turn back, it would be a hard journey and soon they would be unable to even see their hands in front of their faces.

"But Athos" Aramis whined unhappily

"No buts Mis, you're shaking" he commanded, turning his horse about and beginning to lead his brothers out of the forest.

The mere fact that Aramis didn't argue told Athos that he too recognised the difficult circumstances that they would be facing if they didn't go home, and judging by the way he was shaking he assumed he was cold and in pain, definitely having pushed himself to the limit of his endurance.

He slowed down and fumbled with cold fingers in his saddlebag, drawing out his extra blanket and draping it carefully around his brothers trembling shoulders, allowing his hands to linger and squeezing gently. He was flashed a grateful smile in response as too thin fingers crept out to clutch the edges of the blanket together.

They had just reached the edges of the forest when Athos sensed something was not right, the cheerful chirping of the birds had disappeared and the wind had died down with the rustling of the trees quietening to a mere whisper of noise. The forest was eerily silent and he held up a hand in silent command for them to stop, tilting his head slightly to the left in an attempt to hear _something_ out of the ordinary, he did not wish to alert anyone that they knew of their presence.

"What is it 'Thos?" Aramis asked blearily, having been drifting in a sleepy daze for the last twenty minutes of their journey, rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

"Shh" Athos hushed him with a gloved finger to his lips, meeting the eyes of his other brothers to let them know of his suspicions.

It was often the gut feeling of Athos that kept them safe when out on missions, the man seeming to have some sort of sixth sense for danger and so his judgment was always trusted, no matter how unfounded his concerns seemed. Therefore when he suddenly started acting strangely at this point, they followed his lead  without question, hands inching towards pistols or swords and eyes scanning their surroundings.

Thanks to his warnings they were ready for when the armed men charged from the undergrowth and surged forwards to hack and slash at the Musketeers and their horses.

"AMBUSH" Athos roared, drawing his sword and engaging the nearest man, a disturbing sense of déjà-vu flooding through his body as the incident that started all of this flashed through his mind. The men surrounding them were as untrained as those that had attacked them on the road the other day, same ragged clothes and rusted swords and worst of all they also seemed to be targeting Aramis.

The groggy man was valiantly trying to fend off five of the attackers that had converged around his horse, slashes of swords aimed at sensitive areas that would have been lethal had any connected. As it was he had many near misses, arms weak with fatigue, trembling as a sword was driven towards his neck with a disturbing amount of force.

With a roar that imitated a wounded bull, Porthos launched himself off his horse and barged through the men surrounding him, charging to Aramis' aid and slaying three men within mere seconds, swinging his sword around manically. Unsurprisingly with their superior skill, all twenty of the bandits were dead within minutes, although to the men themselves the battle had seemed to last a lifetime, all their thoughts concentrated on protecting their ailing friend.

"Are there any left alive?" Athos asked, breathing a little more deeply than usual after their impromptu exercise.

"Um no" D'artagnan murmured "Porthos took care of that"

"I understand. See to Aramis and then we shall return to the lodge"

Porthos turned to his best friend and gently grasped a quivering hand in his own larger one, trying to coax his sightless eyes into meeting his own. Aramis just kept staring into the middle distance, eyes blown wide with distress and mouth moving soundlessly, no manner of coaxing would bring him back to the present and Porthos resorted to dragging him bodily from the saddle. He enveloped him in his arms, keeping him upright as his knees buckled and legs refused to support him, eyes finally closing as he fell limply into the embrace.

"He's gonna have to ride wit me" Porthos rumbled as he hefted his friend bodily into his arms, cradling him carefully against his chest.

"Of course, let's go"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once back inside the warmth of the lodge, they settled Aramis comfortably on a lounger covered in mountains of blankets, sitting themselves around his prone form having had enough experience with his odd moods to know they would get no sense from him until he emerged from whatever place his mind had escaped to.

"They were targeting him" Athos murmured over steepled fingers, biting his lip in thought as he observed their broken brother.

"What!" Porthos cried, gripping Aramis' hand tightly in his own.

"Both this time and last, they targeted Mis. Five for each of us and ten to destroy Aramis and last time, the last one tried to slit his throat. Hence they have been targeting him"

"Why though Athos? Sure he has pissed off a few husbands but not seriously enough for them to try to kill him surely"

"I do not know but we shall have to find out"

Aramis blinked slowly into the flickering flames of the fire, slowly surfacing from the miasma of memories as he was warmed slowly from the inside out. The hottest fire burning from his hand where the love of his friend was reaching right into his heart.

"Porthos?" he whimpered, "what happened?"

"We were attacked but it's alright you're safe" he soothed carefully, cupping his friends cheek and gently pulling it around to meet his eyes.

"No" he whispered hoarsely in response, "no it's not alright, it won't be alright! I trusted you! You were supposed to be my brothers, supposed to have my back!"

He began to thrash violently in an attempt to free himself from the restrictions of the blankets, anger taking over his features as he roared in pure, unadulterated anger.

"Aramis, calm down you'll rip your stitches" Athos demanded, pressing down on his friends shoulders to keep him settled, "ARAMIS"

He watched as the anger melted from his younger brothers face and was replaced by anguish and hurt, crumpling into sobs as he could no longer maintain his rage. As was usual his anger quickly transforms to guilt and sadness, barely able to comprehend the fact that his friends whom he would give anything to keep safe, even his life would turn their backs on him.

"Someone is trying to kill you, I know you are hurting and I know that we need to have a conversation with you about us letting you down but for now we need to figure out who is targeting you and why"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading, hope that you enjoy the twist and weren't expecting it! Next episode we have that wonderful conversation that they need so desperately to have! Can anyone guess who might have it in for Aramis?


	22. I Trust You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 22, enjoy! :D

"Right who do we know that would have a grudge against Aramis?" Athos asked, quill hovering over paper in readiness.

"Do you want the long list or the even longer list?" Porthos quipped in reply

Aiming a baleful glare at his big friend Athos brought the tip of the feather to his lips and began to nibble on it absently. The four men had congregated back in the big comfy library, lounging around the room as they attempted to deduce who had it in for their currently vulnerable brother.

"I know i've pissed a lot of people off" Aramis began sheepishly, "but surely I haven't done anything for them to wish me ill or to wish me dead!

"I dunno Mis, to some people adultery is that bad"

"This isn't helping" Athos snarled, drawing the attention of his brothers back to him "there are only a couple of people I could think of that would be angry enough with you to plan your murder, but I doubt they would have the resources to carry out attacks of this size or frequency!"

Silence fell as they pondered Athos' words.

 It was true, whoever had orchestrated these attacks had both money and connections, and an inside link to the palace to have known they were to be staying at the Kings Hunting Lodge. Either that or they were very efficient at tailing people, and they had been so out of it during the journey that they just hadn't noticed.

"Who are you thinking of Athos?"

Aramis' voice was quiet and he refused to make eye contact, despite being a soldier who faced death at the point of a sword or by the pull of a trigger, it was still terribly upsetting and a little frightening to know that at any time someone could be waiting to end your life. Besides even though Aramis did sleep with other people's wives, he had a big heart and it was infinitely painful to know that another being wished him such harm when he had only been doing what he thought was right to help someone who was suffering.

"Jacques Durant, Pierre Albert and Marc Plissette. I can think of others but the mere notion is ridiculous"

"I can think of one other" Aramis muttered softly, colour draining from his already pale face "Isabelle's father. I met him the other week and he was... well, to say furious would be putting it lightly, he believes I am to blame for her death and he is right. The loss of a child is enough to wish death on the one responsible, especially since he had essentially lost her for the second time."

"Hmm, granted it is plausible, but if it were him, he must be working with someone else." Athos scrawled out the names they had considered in a looping cursive script that screamed of his educated past.

A jaw cracking yawn from D'artagnan made Athos throw his quill down in frustration, "if this is boring you D'art then i'd rather you go than us keep you" he snarled.

The Gascon recoiled in shock, brown eyes blown wide and watery as he stared at his mentor. With a slight hitch in his breath he stood abruptly and fled the room, betrayal clear in every fibre of his being.

Athos sighed, threw down his quill and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. He grimaced and quailed slightly under the judgemental eyes of his friends, before letting his hands drop limply between his legs and hanging his head in shame.

"I'll go find him later, give him time to cool off before trying to have that conversation"

"You'd better" Aramis said sternly, "that poor lad stayed up for a long time worrying about me because he felt guilty, and he didn't deserve to be growled at."

"I know, I know"

_'Aramis, how could you let me die. First you failed your child, then your brothers in Savoy, me at the convent and now you are putting your brothers in danger. What kind of a man are you Aramis, bringing all this danger down upon your friends because of your failures.'_

The Spaniard shrank back from the woman standing at the end of his settee and made a choked noise, how was it possible that a woman he knew to be dead, a woman whose body he had discovered, be standing there in front of him.  I must be losing my mind he thought, terrified, having seen the things they did to people who saw things that weren't there.

 He shuddered violently as the spectre faded away, only to be replaced by the translucent apparition of...

"Marsac" he breathed

_'Yes Aramis, I am not surprised you recognised me so quickly. How could you forget your brother? Oh that's right you did, when was the last time you thought about me before I came back Aramis? You moved on with your life and forgot all about your brother, your best friend who's to say you won't do the same to them?'_

Marsac pointed a silvery accusatory finger at where Athos and Porthos were sitting, concerned expressions plastered across their faces.

"No, no I would never. I didn't forget you I promise, I could never forget you!"

The shade followed in the wake of the previous one and seemed to dissolve into a cloud of water droplets, glistening in the firelight and dispersing quickly leaving behind no trace of it having ever been there.

"No don't go! MARSAC! I'm sorry!"

"Aramis, who are you talking to?" Porthos cried as the two men stared in shock at the quivering form of their brother, skin as pasty as cold porridge and eyes haunted by the ghosts of his past.

Cloudy brown eyes cleared slightly and the arm that he had raised to point lowered slowly back to the settee, head swivelling slowly until he made tentative eye contact with the two men.

"I-it was Isabelle and Marsac, they were telling me I killed them. Oh God Porthos I killed them!" he covered his face with his hands before continuing "and i'm going to end up killing you too, this person is after me because I made a mistake! You're in the middle of it now and you are going to end up getting hurt, that's not what I want. The other day when you left me, you were doing the right thing, if you stay near me you're just going to die!"  

"Now you know that's not true! You did nothin wrong Mis, how could you have stopped Isabelle's death or Marsacs'! You were bloody senseless and in no state to be doing anything let alone stopping a full grown man from making his own decisions, he should have stayed to help you!" Porthos grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake.

Athos grunted lowly as he pulled himself up from his chair, bones cracking loudly and sat down next to Aramis, looping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him to lie relaxed against him.

"Porthos is right Aramis. You know I would never lie to you so believe me when I say this, you are not at fault here." Athos punctuated his words with a comforting squeeze, "the only people at fault are us, we were selfish. We didn't think about how you would be suffering, or coping with the terrible things you have endured, and when you needed our help we weren't there for you. That is on us, not you. Can you ever forgive us? I promise we will never leave you in a situation like this ever again. We are going to find out who it is, that for some crazy, unfounded reason wants you dead and we are going to face them. Together. As brothers."

"I-I don't know what to say" Aramis stammered, clutching at Athos shirt tightly. "I already forgave you but... I think i'm ready to trust you again. I love you both"

He buried his face in Athos neck and let the tears fall again, but these tears were much different from the hysterical sobs that had ransacked his body before. These were calm and slow, his body entirely still against the strong support of his brothers and relief flooded through him as he realised he wasn't alone. He had his brothers back.

"You don't think i'm mad do you?" he asked suddenly, "seeing things like that?"

"Of course not, I think you are tired, ill and haunted by things that would have completely destroyed a lesser man. This was your minds way of telling you that you for some silly reason thought you were to blame and needed to tell your brothers so we could dissuade you from that ridiculous notion!" Porthos teased, over the moon and practically giddy with happiness that Aramis finally trusted them once again.

"I should go and fetch D'artagnan" Athos sighed "try and fix the damage my stupid mouth made"

Suddenly a gunshot rent the air, the sound of glass shattering was deafening and all three men threw themselves unceremoniously on the floor to get out of the line of fire. A cracking sound signified the end of the attack as a bullet wedged itself into the bookcase inches away from where Aramis' head had been only seconds previously, shards of wood raining down onto the floor.

"I know who our mystery benefactor is" Athos ground out darkly as he dug the ball from the wood and examined it, "this ball is engraved... and I know this logo"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Aghh exciting! What is the engraving and who does it belong to? Find out in the next chapter! As usual read and review and thankyou so much for your comments, you guys are amazing and really make a difference to my writing! I hope you enjoyed this and look out for the next instalment!


	23. Tracking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Athos, Aramis and Porthos look for D'artagnan, enjoy.

"D'artagnan!"

"D'artagnan! Where are you?"

"D'artagnan, answer me!"

Athos dropped his hands in despair from where they were cupped around his mouth, wherever their wayward brother was, he was not in hearing distance of his shouts. He was reaching the end of his tether with this entire situation, first Aramis and now D'artagnan, when was it going to end.

He spun neatly on his heel and retreated inside to join his two remaining brothers.

"Oh no" Aramis sighed taking in the grim expression marring Athos' face, the thinning of his lips and furrowed brow signified bad news that they had all been hoping to avoid.

"He's nowhere to be found"

Porthos swore colourfully and lashed out, kicking the chair nearest him viciously and immediately regretting it as his toe complained loudly.

"We're going to have to wait until morning and try to pick up a trail then, hopefully there will be something left after so long"

The men clustered together to wait for the morning, wrapping themselves around one another for comfort.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bright and early the next morning, all three men were up bright eyed and bushy tailed, well two of them were. Aramis was still blurry eyed and rumpled, his injuries sapping his strength, making him lethargic and he was stumbling around collecting up his things.

"Come on you silly man"

Porthos observed Aramis' fumbling with a fond smile and grabbed him by the shoulders, herding him out the door and into Athos' waiting arms. He told Athos to keep an eye on the fool and returned a few minutes later with both of their saddlebags, one tucked beneath his arm and the others swinging by their straps from his hands.

"Right, c'mere" Porthos grabbed Aramis around the waist and hoisted him unceremoniously onto the back of his horse, mounting himself behind his friend and holding him closely against his chest.

Ignoring Aramis' vehement protestations, he spurred his horse into movement and urged him to keep an eye out for tracks. Aramis was the best at tracking amongst them, always able to pick up the most intricate of details that most men would have missed, and following it throughout the densest of forests and deepest rivers. They could only hope that his fever addled brain would be able to focus enough to pick up any tracks that D'artagnan had left after his disappearing act the night previous.

In the end it was Athos who spotted it.

A scrap of brown leather was fluttering in the wind like a flag, it had snagged on a branch halfway up the tree, the sharp needles of the hawthorn had sliced easily through the doublet like a hot knife through butter, leaving it speared there for them to find. It was difficult to tell if it had been left behind deliberately as some kind of Hansel and Gretel style trail of breadcrumbs, or if it had just been an accident, an inevitability when stumbling through the underbrush whether willingly or under duress.

"Over there"

They all pulled their horses to a halt, them tossing their heads in aggravation at being manhandled by the men who had their minds on something else. Sun was streaming through the gloomy clouds and reflecting off the moisture on the grass and the frost, making them shine like diamonds on a rather leafy crown and dazzling the men as they tried to peer through the undergrowth.

“That’s definitely his, only he wears such a light suede colour, never understood why it was a nightmare to clean blood off” Athos mumbled

“Look down” Aramis pointed out tiredly, “there are drag marks, and footprints from at least two men but no signs of a struggle. With only two men they must have knocked our young gascon out for him to be so compliant”

“I’ll kill em, I will” growling rumbled through Porthos’ chest and shook Aramis where he was leaning against him.

A pale hand knocked Porthos awkwardly in the shoulder “please no more mon amis, I already feel sea sick”

“Sorry Mis”

“It’s quite alright”

“It’s not alright!” Athos bellowed, anger welling up inside him as he listened to his friend’s petty discussion “D’artagnan is missing and what are you doing? Arguing that’s what!”

“It wasn’t an argument” a pout settled on Aramis’ face despite the gravity of the situation, genuinely upset at the veiled accusation of not caring about what had happened to their youngest brother. “Twas merely a discussion”

“Well, discuss things later if you would”

Warm breath gusted over Aramis’ ear  as Porthos’ chest pressed closer to his back and his lips lingered by his ear “someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning”

“Aye” he agreed “but let’s leave him be, he is understandably upset”

“That doesn’t mean he should take it out on you!”

“As much as I appreciate your concern Porth, I know he does not mean it, also you would not be much better in his situation. We all care about young D’artagnan, but Athos more so, as such his behaviour is understandable.”

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt as they glanced up and found their leaders icy blue eyes fixed upon them, narrowed into angry sits as he glared frostily.

“Aramis” his tone was clipped “do you have enough of a track to follow?”

He gulped and nodded hesitantly “but you know as well as I do Thos that only time will tell, I may be able to follow it now but there’s no counting for later”

The muscle in Athos’ clenched jaw jumped rhythmically as he contained his frustration, the strain in his brother’s voice and the lines of pain around his eyes made him regret his earlier outburst and he dearly wished to not allow it to happen again.

“Yes, I know but we have to try”

The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky as time wore on, the shadows of the trees around them lengthening and the air becoming chillier and chillier as any feeble warmth the sun had provided diminished.

With the slow disappearance of the sun, the trail that they were following began to disappear too. Aramis having to squint more and more as the light available was practically non-existent, or at least dim enough that he was having trouble making out any disturbances in the dirt.

“Athos we need to stop” Porthos called wearily, a disturbing sense of déjà vu washing over him, positive he had said those very words before in the same situation.

“Not while D’artagnan is still out there” Athos called back over his shoulder, posture stiff and voice betraying nothing of his feelings “we must find him. Where to next Aramis?... Aramis?”

When their brother failed to answer Porthos glanced down in alarm at him where he was resting against his chest, and was relieved to see his chest gently rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath in sleep. Athos gave an outraged cry at the sight however and made a move to give the Spaniard a shake, only to find his arm seized in the iron grip of his other brother.

“Don’t… You… Dare” Porthos ground out menacingly.

“How can he sleep at a time like this! He needs to be tracking!”

“I understand that you are worried about D’artagnan, God knows I understand, but I won’t let you hurt Mis. You’re too wrapped up in your worry to see that he is exhausted and in pain but he would never let on because he wants to help too much, wants to avoid being in a situation like Savoy once more. So if he falls asleep, you let me him, and I won’t let you sacrifice Mis’ health to find D’artagnan, do you hear me? Besides lights too bad for im to see anything anyway!”

Athos looked ashamed and nodded at his brothers words. “You are quite right mon amis, we shall stop for the night to rest and carry on the search tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah but will they find D’artagnan tomorrow? Wait and find out! :D


	24. Well, that was unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration struck guys so here is a chapter!

Pounding.

Incessant pounding.

Pounding that reminded him of when his father used to be constructing one of those wagons and was using a massive mallet to whack nails into place, or even wooden beams that were stubbornly resisting their new positions.

He had half a mind to go outside to the yard and tell his father to stop, it was giving him a terrible headache and all he wanted was to lie down and sleep. The cart could be built tomorrow when he was well enough to give his father a helping hand.

Actually that couldn’t be right, his father was… dead. He remembered cradling the man in his arms as crimson blood pooled in the rain about them, rain which thundered through his ears and plastered his hair to his face.

No his father most definitely was dead. So if he was not creating the aggravation… no the painful pounding, then who was?

Regaining consciousness was a slow process, like swimming upwards against the tide in a raging river, being buffeted by the roaring wind and pushed back below the surface. Finally he broke the vicious cycle, gasping as his head breached the surface and he inhaled lungfuls of clean air, blinking bleary, gritty eyes open.

Painfully slowly awareness came back to him and he found himself slumped bonelessly against a thick trunked tree, if the hard bark pressing at his back were any indication, or the damp that was slowly seeping through the seat of his breeches.

A roughness scraping against his wrists told him in no uncertain terms that they were bound tightly in rope behind his back, the ache in his shoulders only adding to that assumption. Then there was the blinding pain in his head, through the narrow squint that he had managed he was able to see the flickering flames of a merrily roaring campfire, and he just knew that it wasn’t his brothers sitting around its comforting warmth.

There were three men lounging comfortably around the fire, packs making perfect pillows as they talked and laughed with one another, paying no heed to their captive whom they had situated just outside the circle of light. D’artagnan tried to ascertain if there were any men outside his line of vision and turned his head slightly to the right. Bright lights exploded behind his eyes like those newfangled fireworks they created in Italy and he regretted the attempt immediately.

A low groan was torn from his lips and echoed loudly around the clearing despite the general chatter, all heads swivelling his way as his captors realised their prisoner had returned to the land of the living.

As the men made their way over to where he was slumped, helpless and groaning, with malicious glints in their eyes and expectant smirks on their lips, he made a heartfelt plea to his brothers to get here in time before these men destroyed him too much.

Having stopped about an hour ago in a secluded clearing, Aramis was still the only one of the trio that had found any respite in sleep. When they had set up a warm campfire and rolled out their sleeping mats in a row beside it, Porthos had scooped Aramis up from where he had been laid down against a tree and tucked him carefully under the blankets before leaving him in peace.

Porthos then made his way to where his other, grumpy brother was sat upon a log. Head hanging, braced with his hands resting his elbows on his thighs. He plonked his considerable bulk next to Athos and bumped him gently with his shoulder.

“How you holding up?”

“How do you think” was the muffled reply.

“Well, considerin I ave never been as drunk as you or as sullen, I aven’t the foggiest”

“Ha, bloody ha Porthos. Your attempts to cheer me up are as unwelcome as they are unsuccessful”

“Well that’s gratitude for you” the larger man grumbled, there was no real heat behind his words however and he carried on regardless, “Jus trying to do the best for my brother and what do I get, insulted that’s what!”

“Porthos, please. Dispense with the pleasantries and just state clearly and concisely what it is you really came over here to say.” Athos’ voice was weary, rubbing a hand down his face and fixing his brother with an exhausted and exasperated stare.

“Who is it that is targeting Aramis? You recognised that musket ball and it knocked you for a six, now D’artagnan has been kidnapped and i’d be willing to bet that the same person is responsible.” His tone was not accusatory but it left no room for Athos to escape answering.

“My dear Porthos, no one in their right mind would enter into a wager with you, even if it didn’t involve cards.” A deep sigh gusted from his pursed lips and with yet another swipe to his face, he clasped his hands together and fixed his brother with an anguished gaze. “Marquis Laurent, it was his symbol which decorated that musket ball and him who has been targeting our Aramis. Him who is working with Isabelle’s father to harm him and by association… me.”

“Wait, you’re telling me that the Marquis Laurent, good friend of the King and insanely rich nobleman has a grudge against our brother. Why on Earth?”

“Not Aramis… Me” Athos whispered “he was associated with my father, they drew up a betrothal between me and his oldest daughter. Naturally I was unconcerned at the time, being too young to really understand the significance, but then I met _her_. She was perfect and I desired nothing more than to marry her, obviously Laurent was not happy and complained to the King. Fortunately my father was on better terms with the King at that point and he nullified the betrothal, thank god, although it may have ended better for me if I hadn’t married Anne”

Here he paused and gazed unseeing into the flickering flames, memories playing behind his eyes in a sickening cycle that had haunted him for years and driven him to drink.

“Regardless, his daughter, unbeknownst to me was hopelessly in love with me and upon discovering that we were not to be married, she took her own life. Laurent of course blamed my father and in due course me, I had hoped that once news had reached him of my own failed love then he would be vindicated and leave me alone. Evidently that was not the case and if I had to guess it has only incensed him further, hearing that I destroyed his daughter for a catastrophe of a marriage would be a kick to the gut. I can only imagine that he happened upon Isabelle’s father and having heard of the exploits of “ _The Inseparables_ ” he saw an opportunity to destroy me as my family supposedly destroyed his.”

“Wow” was the only thing Porthos could think of to say, gobsmacked by the outpouring of information from his laconic friend. He didn’t think he had ever heard that many words from his lips.

“Wow indeed” Athos smirked dryly, “I only hope we can protect and retrieve our brothers, preferably before any more harm comes to them and they can forgive me for all of this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that answers all your questions about who the musket ball belonged to, I had intended to keep it hidden for a little longer but it fitted with the way this chapter turned out! Hope you like it and please read and review :D


	25. He Has a Plan

D’artagnan rolled his eyes for the fourth time that hour as he listened with exasperation to the plotting of the group of men. He could only wonder how they had actually managed to capture him, as based upon their subpar planning they couldn’t capture a cow if their lives depended on it. Then again, he had been particularly out of it at that point and hadn’t managed to anticipate a tree branch aimed at his head from behind. That had been an unpleasant experience. He had been knocked out by many things in his life but a tree branch was a new experience and one he didn’t care to repeat.

“So lemme get this straight Pierre, we got the kid and we keep ‘im, un’armed until the other three turn up. Then we stick a gun to his ‘ead, and threaten them until they swap ‘im for the other two. What was their names again?”

He couldn’t hold back the wave of irritation that swelled up at being called a boy, he was no more a boy than Porthos was!

You could hardly call the bear of a man a boy, and he was always irritated at people underestimating him like this.

“For the last time Andre we want to swap this stupid Gascon child for the Musketeers named Athos and Aramis. Laurent and Francis want this done as smoothly as possible so you need to get your thick head around this plan!”

The larger man cuffed him round the head with a frustrated grunt.

“You won’t get away with this” D’artagnan butted in calmly, levelling stony brown eyes at his captives “once my brothers arrive you lot are going to be very sorry that you kidnapped me”

“You aren’t in any position to be making threats little boy” the taller one made his way towards where D’artagnan was tethered to the tree, pulling at his wrists to be able to put some distance between him and the approaching man. “You had better behave and keep quiet or we will hurt you, I don’t care if they meet our demands, you won’t be needed after that.”

D’artagnan spat viciously in his captors face and smirked in satisfaction at the disgust.

Pierre swiped a hand down his face to clear it of the spittle, features contorting in rage as a snarl lifted his lips. The next second D’artagnan’s head snapped violently to the side with the force of the blow that the man landed to his face, blood dripping from his lip where it was sliced open on his teeth.

“Now shut up”

Deciding that this would be a tactical point to retreat, he sat back and glared mutinously at his captors.

“Good boy” Pierre taunted as he planted his backside back on the log beside the fire, laughing raucously with his fellow men.

Little did they know that D’artagnan had a plan to release himself, and prevent their admittedly terrible plan from succeeding. His new position against the tree had gifted him with a rather sharp branch and he was subtly working his wrists back and forth against it, slowly working to cut through the rope strand by strand.

_The night air was frigid as it crept into his bones, skin prickling with the awful sensation of a lack of blood flowing through his body. He groaned slightly as he stared absently up at the constellations shining like glittering beacons in the inky black of the sky, taking inventory of how much his body hurt._

_This had been a very surreal day, one that he desperately hoped he would wake up from and find it had just been a really terrible dream. He would open his eyes and be greeted with the sound of Jacques whistling merrily while he stoked the fire, and the cheerful joshing of men while they sparred playfully with each other._

_A deep sigh flew from his lips as he shifted slightly in the bank of snow he was embedded in, unable to fully muster the energy to stand up. His head fell limply to the side as the will to keep it held up deserted him, and his eyes widened in horror at what filled his vision._

_Long shining chestnut hair was matted with blood where it lay across the pallid face, dark eyelashes curling softly against his cheeks._

_“D’artagnan” he whispered in horror, stretching a trembling arm over to reach his baby brother and pressing two fingers to his neck. “No, no, no no no!”_

_There was no familiar rushing of blood beneath his fingertips, no pulse thumping away against the sensitive skin, no sign of life._

_His little brother was dead._

_Slain like the rest of his brothers were, sleeping peacefully and totally trusting, before a knife was slid into their back._

_He pushed himself to his feet, legs shaking like a newborn colt and adrenalin surging through his system as he pleaded desperately for this nightmare to end._

_As he pushed on his brother’s shoulder, his body flopped limply to the side, head lolling and one arm falling to the side. Revealing a gaping hole in his chest; a gunshot wound that had caused a massive rent in his doublet and blood stains down his front._

_“Oh my poor brother” Aramis whispered softly, “death should not have taken thee, you were too good to end like this, I should have spared you this pain.”_

_He caught sight of the marks of torture on his brother’s body and closed his eyes in pain, he had been sliced repeatedly along his body leaving behind angry red lines, and a purple bruise marred his left eye socket._

_“I’m so sorry D’artagnan, I should have got to you in time”_

_Touching a gentle hand to his brother’s brow he muttered a heartfelt prayer, blessing his brother’s soul as it embarked on its most sacred journey, begging for forgiveness and peace for D’art._

_He cast a glance around the battlefield and gasped as his eyes fell upon the bodies of Athos and Porthos also, lying murdered on the battlefield with the rest of the Musketeers of Savoy._

Aramis jolted awake with a horrified scream, thrashing desperately to free himself from the force that was keeping him trapped in its embrace. Voices gradually filtered through his consciousness, raised as the screaming continued to erupt from his throat.

“Aramis… Brother… Calm yourself down!” Athos ordered reaching out to grab a hold of a flailing limb.

Porthos gave up on trying to get through to him with words and seized Aramis, wrapping him up in a bear hug from behind, gripping his wrists and holding them crossed against his chest as the smaller man continued to thrash.

“LET ME GO! D’ARTAGNAN! NO”

To both the other men’s surprise, tears were streaming down their brother’s cheeks, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

“Mis, shh it’s alright. Calm down now, shhh” Porthos soothed as Athos rested his hands on Aramis’ knees to ground him.

Gradually his breathing evened out and his sobs subsided into hitching breaths and he rested his head back against the comforting warmth of Porthos’ shoulder, before blinking his eyes open slowly.

“Thank goodness, you with us?” Porthos asked in his characteristically gruff voice.

“Yes” Aramis rasped “I apologise for the spectacle”

“Don’t even mention it Mis, we completely understand” Athos murmured “If anything I owe you an apology for my appalling behaviour yesterday. I am just… worried”

A weak smile spread across Aramis’ lips “It’s fine, I feel the same way. I… could never forgive myself if D’artagnan were to be harmed for something I have done”

“You have done nothing, you are innocent in all of this and always have been. The only person who is to blame for any of this is those who have been targeting us” Athos contradicted him firmly.

“I suppose you have a point, but I saw him…” he choked on a quiet sob “he was tortured and beaten and… murdered. Left to rot in the snow at Savoy like all the rest, our D’artagnan” he hid his face against Porthos’ neck, screwing his eyes shut tight.

“We will find him” Athos said determinedly as he watched Porthos rub a large hand up and down the bony back and the other rested on the back of his neck in comfort, “of that I assure you. We will not stop until we do so and if they have harmed a single hair upon his head, they will regret it”

The three men sat in silence for a few more minutes before almost instantaneously they launched into motion, packing up their campsite in a few seconds and leaving nary a trace of their presence in the clearing.

“To D’artagnan” Aramis called out as Porthos spurred their horse into motion and they set off once again through the trees, hot on the trail of their youngest brother.

D’artagnan couldn’t hold back the frustrated sigh as three hours later and he still hadn’t managed to saw his way through the ropes holding his wrists together. He was still struggling his way through however and he determined to not give up while his brothers were still out there looking for him, he had no doubt they were still looking. They wouldn’t give up, not while there was still a chance of him still being alive.

His attention was drawn to the group of men as the sound of a horses hooves filtered through the air. A chestnut gelding cantered into the clearing, a man in oversized leathers perched masterfully in the saddle as he came to a stop and slid gracefully from the saddle, leather boots meeting the floor with a muted crunch. The man strode purposefully towards the ruddy faced leader of the ragtag bunch who was more than slightly inebriated by this point and came to a halt directly in front of him.

“Pierre” the new arrival said brusquely, waiting until the blurry eyes focussed on him “Laurent wants to know when the exchange will happen.”

“I… hic… don’t know. Andre and his men lost them when they left the… hic… hunting lodge.” The pudgy man released a massive belch when he finished speaking, the awful stench of stale alcohol wafting all the way over to where D’artagnan was sitting and if he hadn’t been part of the plan to harm his friends, he would have felt sorry for the new man.

“You imbecile! He will kill us all if this fails. You had one job, capture the boy and keep a tail on the other three. What was so hard about that?” Although the words that spilled from his lips were angry, his tone was far from it and the expression on his face was a mixture between nauseated and paralysed with fear.

“It was harder than you think” Pierre whined in a nasally voice from where he was seated a few feet away on a log “one minute they were sitting there chatting, comforting the pretty one and then the next they were riding off and by the time we caught up, they were gone… no trace left”

“Well you had better find them or we are all deader than doornails.”

“No need”


	26. Plan in Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy guys :D

All heads snapped to face the direction of the new voice and were astounded to find the very Musketeers they had been seeking standing defiantly at the edge of the circle of light. Aramis was lingering slightly behind Athos and Porthos as they stood shoulder to shoulder, hands resting on the hilts of their swords and postures tense in expectation of a fight. 

“Pierre” the still nameless man hissed, nudging the portly man viciously and jerking his head meaningfully in the direction of their quarry.

“Oh right” Pierre gestured and a contingent of men nervously approached the Musketeers, obviously prepared to take them down.

“Pierre” the man repeated despairingly.

“Oh, oh yeah!” with another hand gesture, D’artagnan was roughly manhandled to his feet and pushed, stumbling to Pierre’s side where the man grabbed his bound hands and pulled them up at a painful angle. 

D’artagnan gulped, and then froze still as a statue as he felt the cold metal of a knife’s blade biting at the vulnerable skin of his neck. 

“Athos and Aramis, Musketeers of the Guard. You will hand yourselves over to me now, without a fight, or the boy dies”

“For the last time” ‘D’artagnan shouted enraged, “I am not a boy!” Taking advantage of the element of surprise, he wrenched his wrists apart, snapping the fibres and breaking the last resistance of the rope. Within seconds he had liberated the stunned guard of his knife and stabbed him in the stomach, the familiar gurgling sounds of a dying man filling his ears. 

The clearing was suddenly alive with motion; Athos, Aramis and Porthos standing back to back as they skilfully parried the swords of the other men. 

Porthos grabbed one of his attackers by the throat, large hand fully encompassing the man’s neck and squeezing viciously. His face began to suffuse with a deep red as his airway was cut off, spluttering and wheezing before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Porthos flung the fallen man away into an approaching group and turned to charge at the next opponent. 

Athos was dancing gracefully across the uneven ground, sweeping and slashing with his rapier, cutting down any that were in his path. He was barely breaking a sweat as he looped an arm around a man’s neck from behind, listening to the fabric tear with the force of his grip and in one quick motion, sliced his sword across his neck. The body acted as a shield against the thrust of another soldier and he shoved it onto him, allowing the extra weight to overbalance the other man and running him through as he lay prone on the ground. 

Aramis was finding the commotion of battle to be more than his baffled brain could comprehend but he was fighting valiantly to keep up with his brothers. A carefully aimed bullet had burrowed a path through an approaching bandit’s skull, making him crumple to the ground in a heap. He then discarded the spent pistol, tucking it back in its holster the time it would have taken to reload opening him up to far greater danger. Metal sang as he withdrew it from the scabbard and slammed it down against an opposing blade, dispatching three men with little difficulty but leaving his chest heaving with exertion. 

“Damnit men” Pierre screamed with anger, finally resorting to drawing his own sword as the fighting drew ever nearer to his position “there are twenty of us and four of them! You should be handing their arses to them on a dinner plate, not the other way around!”

His men found a second wind from deep within them, pressing forward with renewed determination and beginning to push the inseparables back.

“This aint looking good Athos” Porthos called as he drove his sword through yet another man. 

“Keep fighting” he roared in return skewering yet another man and diving to his left to avoid being stabbed in return. “We can’t let them take D’artagnan again!”

So the fight continued, muscles burning with exertion, lungs heaving with each gasping breath and sweat pouring in burning rivers down furious features. Men fought and men fell as bodies piled up on the ground, piles so thick in places that you couldn’t even see the ground through the limbs and blood.

The Inseparables had been driven to stand back to back at the edge of the clearing, swords held high in firm grips that shook slightly as they began to reach their very limits of endurance. Slow footsteps led them in a wavering circle, keeping their sights fixed upon the weapons pointed at alarmingly vulnerable places on their body.

As the unspoken leader of their little gang, Athos took a step forward and attempted in his usual acerbic tones to reason with the brain dead lunatics opposite them. As he spoke he flung his hand behind him and curled his fingers upwards in a well known gesture to his brothers, one that he knew was recognised as a low rumble of discontent reached his ears from where Porthos was standing. 

“Pierre” he began, drawing attention to himself as the other three began to inch ever so slowly towards the trees and the waiting horses. “Let us dispense with this ridiculousness now. Unless you wish to lose your life you will allow me and my brothers to leave this place immediately and unharmed.” 

“Now why would I do that?” Pierre growled, calling his remaining five men back to his side where they formed a guard and aimed their weapons at the approaching Athos. “I have you right where I want you. Hand over the Musketeers Athos and Aramis and the other two can leave unharmed as you put it.”

A grimace flashed almost imperceptibly across Athos face as he contemplated their next move. Having had experience with all kinds of situations he knew when it was best to just placate the aggravated party and then to put it bluntly, run like hell.

“Fine” he ground out through gritted teeth and a frosty expression “but I demand a moment to confer with my men”

“I am not entirely without reason” Pierre returned and gestured flippantly towards the other men. 

Without missing a beat Athos had spun on a booted heel, steely eyes never leaving the danger of the weapons turned upon them and grabbed D’artagnan firmly by the bicep, dragging him into a tighter circle to prevent his words reaching the other men. 

“There is no way we are handing ourselves over” Athos began, glancing furtively over his shoulder and scowling as Pierre checked an imaginary watch, “ I shall distract him and you get to the horses, get away and I shall catch up.” 

“No Athos we can’t let you do this, that’s five against one! You’ll die!” 

“I don’t know whether to feel insulted that you have such little faith in me or scared witless by the fact that you are absolutely correct” Athos drawled, failing to hide the uncertainty in his tone. 

“How about you feel neither” Porthos interrupted “let’s end this pity party eh, Athos distract ‘em still. We get the horses and pick you up before we all hightail it outta here tout suite.”

“I like this plan, this is a much better plan” D’artagnan mumbled emphatically, slapping Porthos on the back in congratulations for out manoeuvring their stupidly self sacrificing leader.

“Fine” said leader sighed, lips twitching reluctantly at the corners with amusement. “When I give the signal and only then, get on a horse and go, I will run to that other clearing over there and you pick me up got it?”

“Got it”

“Time’s up Mr Musketeer” Pierre sang in a terribly off key tone, voice wavering. “Hand yourselves over now or the others die”

“Fine”

With that terse answer Athos began to walk slowly forwards, heedless of the swords that were hitched a couple of inches higher in alarm, and came to a halt a few paces from Pierre. With an arched brow, Athos planted a hand on his sword hilt and raising his voice slightly said “”

Within seconds the clearing was thrown into a mess of confused shouting, Athos attacking those near him in a whirlwind of sword swipes, whilst a cacophony of terrified whinnying brought up the rear as Porthos freed not just their own but all horses available. Hastily dispatching yet another of the seemingly never-ending stream of men, he began sprinting away from the fight and towards the aforementioned clearing hopefully before they noticed he was gone. Sword in one hand and pistol in the other, he ran with a grimly determined expression until he broke from the cover of the tree line and chanced a glance over his shoulder, surprised to find not a single man on his heels. 

He slowed to a halt and frowned deeply in confusion, brow furrowing until he heard the welcome sounds of horses hooves galloping down the sandy path towards him, and he took in the familiar visage of his brothers riding towards him. 

Porthos held one large hand out as he approached and upon grasping Athos’, swung him bodily up onto the horse behind him and they continued on their way. 

“Alright there Athos?” Porthos grinned

“Obviously” he drawled in response, leaning his chin on his brothers’ broad shoulder “everyone present and correct?”

“Aye, we’re all here” the larger man turned to crane his neck around his brother sitting behind him to grin at D’artagnan and… “Aramis?”

The shock and bewildered confusion in his tone had Athos turning in his seat too, heart pounding ferociously in his throat, for good reason as his wide, searching eyes took in a rider less horse trotting behind theirs.

“For pity’s sake! Not again!”

Back in the clearing, Pierre rubbed his hands together with glee as he took in the pretty Musketeer his men had dragged from a fleeing horse and thrown to the ground before him. His masters would be very, very pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter, I hope you guys do too! As usual just let me know what you think, I’m happy with any comments :D


	27. Oh Athos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter guys, enjoy! Oh and please check out my other new story and see what you think :D

“Can we not just go through one mission, _one mission_ , just one, without Aramis getting into some kind of trouble!

I mean seriously! We weren’t even on a mission! He was with _us_! It should have been D’artagnan that was difficult to get away from there, not Aramis!

Next time we get him on a horse, hell next time we take him anywhere, I am going to tie him to it, to us! Just some rope and create some kind of leash, harness type thing to keep him with us!

I’m going to punch him so hard he’ll beg me to kick him! Then I’ll get Treville to put him on palace duty for the rest of eternity to teach him how to be a safe, sane and sensible man!”

D’artagnan and Porthos sat on a handily placed log (courtesy of Porthos himself) and stared open mouthed as Athos ranted and raged. Arms flying wildly around as he shouted angrily, plotting the next way he would make Aramis pay for worrying him… again. The two others had experience with Athos when he got like this, he was calm and stoic through so many things but when he reached his breaking point, well. It’s best to just wait out the storm.

“How long do you think this time?” D’artagnan murmured to Porthos, tilting his head slightly but keeping his eyes firmly fixed on their still pacing leader.

“Mmm five more minutes” Porthos muttered back.

“Nah I’d say ten more, he’s really worked up this time”

Athos snarled and spun to face them, opening his mouth to berate them for their disrespect. A bolt of pain shot through his temple and brought him to his knees with a cry of agony, hands reaching up to clutch at his head, nails digging into his scalp to try and relieve the pressure.

“ATHOS”

They were by his side in seconds, D’artagnan seizing him by the wrists and dragging them away from his head too late to prevent him from drawing blood and Porthos placed his hands one on either side of his temples. It took a surprising amount of force to stop him from knocking his head repeatedly against the ground but finally after what seemed like two hours but what can really only have been about five minutes of heartbreaking agonised whimpers and squirming from Athos, it finally ended and his tensed muscles relaxed.

“Jesus Christ Ath” Porthos breathed, smoothing his fingers across the heated brow and earning himself a hazy eyed squint in return, icy blue eyes swimming with pain and confusion.

“I completely concur” he rasped tiredly, eyes slipping closed again as he focused on breathing deeply and relaxing the tense and burning muscles.

“What was that?” D’artagnan was close to tears, hand resting on his brother’s chest, reassuring himself that the heart beneath his fingers was still beating strongly.

“I am not entirely sure and no I do not want to find out” he gave a grunt as he forced his complaining stomach muscles to pull him into a sitting position, shrugging of the hands that hovered anxiously both trying to stop and help him.

“Athos” Porthos reproached.

“I know I know, and as soon as we have Aramis back I’ll call in to Doctor Lemay you insufferable mother hen”

They each grabbed a hand and hauled him to his feet, rolling their eyes at the stubborn man and escorting him over to sit on the log.

“You are sitting here” Porthos pushed a water skin into his hands and glared meaningfully at him until he sipped it, “drinking some water and resting for at least an hour you loony”

Aramis came awake to a blinding pain in his head and he groaned miserably, he was really beginning to get fed up with head injuries. What was it with people and having to knock others out by hitting them in the head? It was just rude and very painful!

He tried to lift a hand and rub at the sore spot but unsurprisingly found his hands tightly bound together behind his back with some coarse rope, most likely the same that had been used to keep his brother confined. He rolled his eyes in aggravation, this was so stupid!

They came here to rescue D’artagnan and him, being who he was had ended up caught instead.

Opening his eyes he had to blink a couple of times to stop seeing doubles of the men sitting around the fireside. It filled him with warmth to notice that there were only three men sitting around the flames, Pierre immediately noticeable from his overly large bulk, the still nameless man in his fancy jacket and one of their lackeys who was noticeably pale and tinged slightly green. Obviously he hadn’t taken the death of his comrades very well, something which Aramis could empathise with. Even if they had been his enemies, they were just men who had ended up fighting on the wrong side of the law because they thought it was the right thing for them to do. He still didn’t like killing them and he prayed at the end of each and every day for their souls to find peace in the afterlife, his list growing longer and longer after every mission.

He heaved a put upon sigh, twisting his wrists subtly to loosen the bonds but only succeeding in rubbing them raw, he had as D’artagnan before him, discovered that even if they were bad at planning, they could tie really good knots.

“Everything alright over there?” Aramis called jovially, determined to live up to his reputation of being an absolutely insufferable captive.

“Shut up Musketeer dog” Pierre spat furiously, “or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born”

“Ooh me haces tan asustado” he mocked, “Athos thinks up much better threats, scary and amusing all in one”

The last man left standing shot to his feet, face turning an even greener shade as he pointed a trembling finger at where Aramis sat.

“He’s Spanish, he’s a Spanish spy! Kill him, he’s a murderer he killed them all!”

“Now now Luc, calm yourself down now” Pierre smiled evilly, “we can have some lovely fun with the Spanish scum”

Aramis felt a ball of fear spawn in the bottom of his stomach, sitting like heavy lead weight and joining the iron band that squeeze his lungs. He had heard all kinds of stories about what scared, superstitious people did to the Spanish. The horror stories about the flogging, the burning, the stoning and any other horrific torture they could think up to punish the scapegoat for crimes he didn’t commit.

God only knew what it was these mad men before him could think up and he could do nothing but sit there, and take it. He wished with all his heart that his brothers would get here soon, but the wish that they would stay away and save themselves was almost as strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time details of the Aramis whump yay! :D As always read and review, thanks so much for all your comments, they are lovely and really make me want to write more. They also help with coming up with new story lines and everything. If you guys have any story prompts or anything please let me know, I’m always open to new ideas! Thank you again and stay tuned for the next chapter. Oh and the idea for Athos’ problem comes from migraines, loads of people don’t realise that they have them, they can hit in seconds and are actually able to cause seizures and such extreme pain so yeah, poor Athos :D


	28. Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter guys, enjoy :D

Aramis woke slowly and immediately wished he hadn’t. It had been somewhere between the lashing and the branding that he had passed out, finally reaching the limits of his endurance.

He experimentally flexed the muscles in his legs and grimaced as it pulled on some cuts but thankfully that seemed to be the extent of the damage down there. He moved on and tried to shift from his position spread eagled on the floor, stopping as pain flared up his spine like a lightning bolt, setting the nerve endings on fire and freezing him in place. Skin was pulling disconcertingly on his back where it had been split by the whip and bruises had been smashed into his skin by boots and fists.

A low moan was torn from his throat as he jarred broken fingers, scrabbling in the dirt for purchase with which to move his broken body.

A gloating voice sounded behind him and he froze, knowing that they already knew he was awake but still hoping distantly that they would be fooled and leave him alone; he didn’t know how much more he could take.

“So, the Spanish whore finally wakes” the soldier laughed, kicking him in the ribs with a booted foot, the breath was knocked from his lungs and he heard more than felt the snap of a rib. “We were beginning to despair of having any more fun” he groped obscenely at his crotch and smirked sleazily.

“Well, I have to say that your sense of fun is very different from mine” Aramis rasped, blood running cold at the insinuation, searching frantically through foggy memories for any sign he was telling the truth. He couldn’t find any definitive answers, just shadowy spectral images of warm flesh and sharp pain, teeth sinking into the junction of his shoulder. He shuddered and shoved the memories away, locking them into the same steel box that held Savoy.

“Oh I would imagine it is” the smirk warped into a snarl as he glared down at him “your idea of fun is to murder, cheat, sin and drag others down into your depraved ways.”

Aramis braced himself for another beating but was granted a reprieve when the smarmy tones of Pierre drifted over, “Luc, that’s enough. We need him alive and at the rate you’re going he won’t see the morning.”

“But boss”

“Don’t you but boss me, do you want the money or not?”

Silence ensued.

“That’s what I thought. Now get him up, we need to move on in case those ruddy Musketeers come back. Besides we’re behind schedule and the boss will be wanting ‘im soon, we were supposed to have delivered them already. But hey, one’s better than none.”

Rough hands grabbed Aramis by the arms and hauled him upright, ignoring the injuries. His head swam sickeningly, vision whiting out with the agony that was shooting through his body and he stumbled, knees refusing to support him. It didn’t matter to Luc that he wasn’t supporting his own weight, he merely tightened his grip and hauled him bodily over to one of the horses.

Rough rope was wrapped tightly around his wrists once more, pulled painfully tight so it bit into the tender skin.

“Up we go” Luc mocked as he flung him over the back of the horse, arms trapped beneath his body, head and legs dangling off either side as if he was a marionette whose strings had been cut.

It was not a comfortable position, it pulled in all the wrong places and he could feel his blood rushing to his head, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he felt bile rising up in his throat. He swallowed it down desperately, there would be nothing worse at this moment than to humiliate himself in front of these men, he was a Musketeer and he would uphold his regiment’s honour.

His determination lasted all of five minutes as the horse began to walk, the horrible roiling in his stomach intensified as he was jolted and jarred, losing the contents of his stomach down the side of the horse only served to make him feel worse.

Mentally he moaned loud and long, praying for it all to end soon whether it be with death or with rescue, in the grand scheme of things he was a minor player and he would rather die than give up information.

Really he just gritted his teeth and rattled off a litany of prayers under his breath to distract himself from his pain.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Athos glared murderously at the tree line before him, the sun was hovering on the horizon and it was placed just right to shine directly in his eyes no matter how much he tilted his hat. His head was pounding furiously, like he had a platoon of tiny drummers marching around in his brain at band practice.

“Ath, you’re going to fell some trees with your eyes again if you’re not careful” Porthos warned, kicking his horse closer to the sullen man.

“Yes well you try living with a headache that feels as if you’ve been trampled by at least five horses and then had a trumpet blown in your ears”

“And you said Aramis was dramatic”

Athos rolled his eyes at Porthos’ teasing and immediately regretted his life decisions, he had set off a terrible throbbing behind his eyeballs and seriously contemplated whether gouging them out with a spoon would make things better.

He blinked in surprise as a water skin appeared before his face, waving up and down as Porthos attempted to get his attention.

“Drink”

“If I must”

D’artagnan was slowly following along behind, muffling his giggles at his brothers antics and attempting to hide his worry for Athos.

They slowed to a halt as they stumbled into the clearing they had just recently fled from, staring around at the wreckage of a camp site, charred wood left still smoking.

“They haven’t been gone long” Athos muttered, pushing aside the aggravating pain and surveying the scene with narrowed eyes, assessing the information left behind. “Can you track them Porthos?”

“What do you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the reviews, I hope the Aramis whump was okay for you guys! :D Next chapter Aramis faces off with the man who has orchestrated their kidnapping! Drama! Anyway, that one may take a little longer to get up as I want it to be a longer chapter and I have a feeling it will be a little difficult to work out. Stay tuned for the next chapter :D


	29. Where do Criminals Congregate?

Falling through the air was the first thing Aramis was aware of since they had stopped in Giverny for an hour to rest the horses that were literally steaming with exertion in the cool air. It was crazy to think that not even half a day earlier he had been in Versailles with his brothers and now he was, well to be honest he had yet to open his eyes so he had no idea where he was now.

By now he was beyond fed up with the circumstances, he had worked hard his entire life and was taking a well-deserved break only to be kidnapped by some crazy people. It was an alarmingly frequent occurrence he realised, musing over his life as a Musketeer, what was it about him that screamed abduct me he wondered?

Ah well, there was no use crying over spilt milk, and many of the hundred other motivational sayings that people liked to bandy about when in a situation where you really just wanted to cry anyway. There was a strange tickling sensation making its way over his cheek and he gritted his teeth to stop an undignified squeak from escaping, please Lord don’t let that be a spider he prayed fervently, not one of the many legged beasts of torment. Forcing his eye open a crack, he was relieved to notice that he had simply fallen face first into a patch of grass and an exceptionally long strand had decided his face needed to be stroked repeatedly. Scrunching his nose in irritation he attempted to shift on the hard ground but was thwarted when his limbs refused to obey him, arms trembling violently and legs doing a good approximation of blancmange. Damn now he was craving blancmange, Serge made the best puddings.

Now is not the time Aramis he scolded himself. You are lying helpless goodness only knows where in the middle of France, your brothers have no idea what has happened to you and you currently have no escape plan. What are you thinking about? Blancmange. Bloody. Blancmange. Pull yourself together man.

Now to an escape plan, that would be the sensible thing to do. His hands were still bound tightly together and currently trapped at a very awkward angle beneath him, his thumbs digging uncomfortably into his chest. As he had already discovered, his legs would be of no help to him if he attempted to escape and he was pretty sure they were tied together as well anyway. All in all escape was looking pretty unlikely and a plan was evading his fuzzy brain despite having been wracking it for what felt like the past half an hour.

“Pierre go and get the toy” ‘  ‘ called from where he was lounging in a tent on a bedroll, “and bring me some food, we can’t have it wasting away before we deliver the goods.”

A hand seized him by the hair and yanked viciously and he whimpered softly as his back arched and he tipped his neck back as far as possible to release the strain on his stinging scalp. Hot breath ghosted over his ear as Pierre taunted him.

“Come on then, you heard him, it’s playtime”

The hand in his hair released its grip and he went sprawling back into the dirt with a sigh of relief, one that didn’t last very long as the hand was joined by another in gripping him around the waist and began half lifting, half dragging him across the ground. He winced as rocks and dirt scraped at his skin and lamented the bruises and scratches that would be littering his body now. They finally came to a halt, a pair of dusty leather boots before his nose.

Aramis began to pray.

“Found anything yet?” Athos asked as he glared into the horizon, eyes tight with pain.

“Four horses passed through here about five hours ago, the trail goes a little bit cold up here but I reckon I can guess where they’re heading” Porthos rumbled with a grim expression.

D’artagnan was riding a little behind the other two, head spinning from one to the other; he couldn’t guess where they were heading. Although he supposed that came from having grown up in the country, despite having spent the last two years in Paris he still got lost sometimes when running errands. He relied on his brothers when they needed to find the local haunts of the criminal overlords.

“Saint Just” Porthos murmured and spurred his horse on with an aggravated nudge of his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how late and how short this chapter is! My first exam is next week and the stress is unreal, I will try to keep writing but it will be slow. Hope you enjoy this chapter and please do let me know what you think :D


	30. Village of Villains

The three men reigned in their horses as they approached the small and quaint looking village in Saint Just, ragged looking villagers staring with undisguised hostility at the soldiers. It was hard to believe that this was a well known hangout for all the biggest and baddest that France had to offer, the streets were covered with smooth cobbles and the cottages that lined them were unobtrusively ordinary. The only aspect that gave away the true nature of this village was the slightly seedy feel to the atmosphere, the padlocks on unassuming doors, and of course the stockpiles of ammunition that were stacked against the walls.

“So what exactly is this place?” D’artagnan mumbled from the corner of his mouth, narrowed brown eyes scanning the streets, taking in the strange behaviour of the villagers “and why are we here? They don’t look as if they’re about to have a party and offer us drinks any time soon”

“That’s because they won’t be” Athos replied lip twitching up slightly at one corner, “keep your eyes and ears open and whatever you do, don’t make eye contact. We are not popular people around here”

“That’ll happen if you have arrested at least 90% of them or their family members and business associates” Porthos chimed in with a rumbling chuckle “welcome pup to Belcastel, hidey hole of criminals associated”

A flash of pain sparked in his left shoulder and D’artagnan cursed, hand flying up to grip the burning joint. “Oww, what the hell was that?” he cried, twisting in his saddle to scan the street for the mysterious projectile.

“Oy, you!” Porthos shouted vaulting from his horse, his feet met the pavement with a loud slapping and within moments he had reached the opening of a shadowy alleyway. He had grabbed blindly in the dark and dragged a small child from its recesses.

“I’m sorry mister, I’m sorry” the small boy cried, face scrunched up in fear and anger as he kicked and scratched, yanking his arm against Porthos’ firm hold. “Please I’m sorry, lemme go mister”

“Why’d you do that eh?” he grumbled, face hard “you should know better than to attack soldiers”

By this point Athos and D’artagnan had dismounted from their horses, with considerably more grace than Porthos had displayed and were flanking their enraged friend. Athos squeezed his shoulder in support and also a little warning as he observed the lines of pain appearing on the small child’s face.

“Porthos” he murmured pointedly and relaxed at seeing the tense lines of muscle in his back soften slightly, “we must be calm, and it would not do to antagonise these people when it is them from which we require information”

“Kid what’s your name?” D’artagnan asked, crouching with a creak of his leathers and gently grabbing the child’s chin “and why did you throw that stone at me?”

“I’m Gabriel and I’m sorry!” tears had begun to stream down the small boy’s face, leaving pale streaks on cheeks that were thick with grime, “but I saw your uniform!”

“Please don’t cry” he softly wiped the tears away with his thumbs and pushed Porthos’ hand completely away from the little boy “what was it about my uniform that scared you Gabriel?”

“How did we go from scary soldiers to big brothers in the space of a few seconds” Porthos asked Athos completely bemused. Athos simply rolled his eyes “I have ceased wondering when it comes to us, there are never any answers”

“ _They_ came past here with someone wearing that uniform yesterday; they killed anyone who saw them. My mum didn’t come home but they didn’t realise I had seen!” the words came out in a nervous whisper that cracked halfway through “they can’t know that I saw, they can’t know, they just can’t!”

“Alright Gabriel, alright” D’artagnan soothed “they won’t find out I promise, we won’t tell them” with slow, gentle motions he pulled the young boy into his arms.

Athos turned over and over the information in his mind, something here was screaming at him but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had stolen a Musketeer uniform and committed crime to discredit the name of their regiment, he should know. He had less than fond thoughts of that event in his life, nearly having been executed for crimes he was innocent of.

“Gabriel” Athos began quietly “could you show us to where these men took the Musketeer?”

The young boy sniffled and observed the older man over D’artagnan’s shoulder, nodding solemnly as he seemed to find whatever it was he had been looking for in those serious blue eyes.

Not five minutes later and the men had returned to their mounts, their new young friend sitting comfortably in front of their youngest member and pointing carefully in the direction he had seen the scary men dragging the pretty moustachioed Musketeer.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He once again found himself sitting on the cold, hard ground with his back scraping against the rough bark of a tree and hands bound tightly behind him around the width of the tree. The remarkable difference this time was the tree was inside a house. He had never seen anything like it in his life and he was always one to appreciate fine architecture, although usually it would be the insides of palatial stately homes that he would be admiring and not rural cottages. Craning his neck back as far as he could before his head thunked into the trunk behind him and peered at the surprisingly distant ceiling, for a country cottage it had a very high roof. The roof itself appeared to have been built around the tree, its branches spreading out and poking out between the tiles, almost like the boughs were the only thing keeping the cottage standing. It was one of the most amazing things he had ever seen and he only wished he could appreciate the natural wonder a little more.

Having had lots of time to think about it, he had come to the conclusion that he was simply too handsome. People were jealous of his easy looks, his charm and affable personality so they decided he would be the easiest to kidnap, either because it was a form of revenge to build their own confidence or because they thought he wouldn’t put up much of a fight.

This time was different however, he had been targeted for another reason than his looks but he had yet to really decide what it was. He had many theories, one which seemed more plausible than the other but he would have to wait and see who turned up to claim him as their prisoner, having gone to such trouble to acquire him.

The massive wooden doors to the cottage swung open with an ominous creaking sound and a man stepped into the halo of light that streamed in, casting a shadow that finished at his feet. Squinting up at the man’s face, his mouth dropped open in shock and he breathed out a single name in a state of shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we will find out what that name was next time! I’m sorry but that was just too perfect a place to stop :D Hopefully next chapter will be up soon and I hope you all enjoy this. As usual please read and review, let me know what you think and what you want from this story :D


	31. Ghosts of People Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this very late chapter everyone :D

They were beginning to regret taking the kid with them on their impromptu expedition, thinking about it now in hindsight it would have been more sensible to just have the kid write them down and follow them. It would have saved their ears a lot of pain and certainly Athos would have been feeling less homicidal and likely to throttle a small child. For someone who had been so terrified by the three imposing soldiers in front of him, to such an extent that he had burst into tears and begged for forgiveness, he sure did know how to chat.

“And then Jacques and I managed to knock the sword out of Freddie’s hands and then we chased him across the creek and then we reached papa’s farmhouse and he fell in the mud and he had to give Chloe’s necklace back” Gabriel paused for breath, twisting awkwardly around on the front of the horse to check that D’artagnan was still listening to him and then heaved in a deep breath to launch into the story of his successful battle.

“Please, Gabriel” Athos forced out through gritted teeth, “as lovely as your escapades are, I think it would be prudent for us to have a little bit of silence while we ride”

He winced as baleful blue eyes swam with tears, and a little lip protruded in a wobbly pout. It was almost enough to make him feel bad about it, almost but he managed to tear his eyes away from the pitiful sight and harden his ever softening heart. D’artagnan ruffled the shaggy brown head in front of him and smiled at the tearful child, “take no notice of Athos, he even snaps at the pretty man you saw and he’s one of his brothers. He chats even more than you do Gabe, Athos is just worried, we have to be very quiet so the bad men don’t hear us”

“Okay D’artagnan” he chirped, cheerful again and preoccupying himself with patting the neck of the horse he was riding on and chatting away in its ear.

The young Gascon fixed their leader with an unimpressed glare and watched in amusement as the older man’s ears began to flush red and he stared fixedly ahead. Suddenly Porthos thrust his arm out in front of the rest of the group, head tilted slightly to the side as he listened intently. The others filed neatly in behind him and scanned the horizon intently for whatever it was the bigger man was hearing.

“Err… Porthos?” D’artagnan’s voice lilted slightly at the end in his confusion, “what is the problem?”

There was an enormous cacophony of rustling from the bushes in front of them and within seconds all hands were securely on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw in the blink of an eye if a threat was posed. A rather dishevelled young man emerged from the bushes, stumbling over protruding vines and ending up face first in claggy mud after having windmilled his arms wildly.

The three musketeers observed in baffled bemusement as this stranger remained lying in the mud, clothes beginning to dampen as the moisture spread through the thin fabric of his frayed tunic. Porthos dismounted gracefully and approached the figure with cautious footsteps, then reached down to grasp a handful of hair and yank.

A strangled moan was dragged from his throat but now at least he was not drowning in the sludge, so really Porthos couldn’t care less about how he was feeling. Athos motioned for D’artagnan to keep his distance and protect the child perched in front of him, of his brothers he was the only one who would recognise the distinctive silver and black of the livery of the Albert family.

“Porthos” Athos declared in an authoritative tone, “secure him and bring him along, we make camp when safe to do so and then interrogate him. He will know something.”

With a grunt of effort the big man hauled their new addition onto the back of his horse before mounting up in front of him and making sure everything was secure, they set off.

* * *

 

Gradually Aramis regained the power of speech, the shock having worn off slightly and allowed his brain to kick back into gear. Now it all made so much sense, only he would have the audacity to plan such an extensive act of treason and still remain hidden in the shadows.

“So what was it that upset you this time?” he asked jovially from his position on the floor, he would be damned if he was going to let how much the situation jarred him show in his demeanour. He did have a reputation to uphold as the most aggravating person to kidnap.

The figure remained towering before him, hat tipped forward to conceal his eyes whilst a finger tapped rhythmically against the sword hilt strapped at his waist. “Now, now Aramis. Still as lippy as you always were, that sharp tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble one day. Oh, wait” he raised a long slender finger in the air in front of his face in a mockery of contemplation “it already did”

“Well, Frederic it has been a long time. You have not changed one single bit despite the ten long years that have passed, one would have hoped you would have grown out of this behaviour. Isabelle certainly did”

That was enough to make him snap, the short fuse of his youth not having lengthened any and Aramis well recalled the right buttons to push in order to garner a reaction. The sharp crack of his hand connecting with Aramis’ cheek echoed around the room and his head was thrown violently to one side, cheek smarting from the blow.

Frederic seized him forcefully by the collar and dragged him until he could feel his breath on his face, “You. Don’t. Speak. Of. Her. You understand?” each word was punctuated by a severe shake by his lapels and spittle flying onto his face with the sheer venom of the other man.

“Why?” his gasping response was almost laughing “is it an honour reserved only for you?”

“You have no right to speak of my Isabelle, you destroyed her with your ways and your lies. She was perfect and she was beautiful until you corrupted her, she was going to be MINE”

Straining against his bonds with a rage that had remained deeply hidden by melancholy for years, all resurfaced in the blink of an eye as he ranted and raged at his captor. “She was never yours, she belonged to NOBODY! She was always beautiful, she was pure and bright even in the darkest of times and she despised you. Not even if you had been the last man on earth would she have contemplated relations with you.”

With those words he knew he had crossed the line, the maniacal glint that flared to life in Frederic’s eyes made him fear for his life. That coupled with the main gauche in his captor’s left hand that was pressed to his jugular.

“Frederic!” a deep voice rumbled from the shadows, “we have had many conversations regarding your impulse control, it would benefit you to recall them. We wouldn’t want to harm our most honoured guest, well not yet anyway. We are still waiting on Athos to join us.”

“You coward, show yourself!” Aramis cried angrily, “what kind of honourless man uses trickery and deceit, I have encountered many criminals but none so depraved as you”

“Now that’s no way to speak to your gracious host, anyone would think you didn’t appreciate the way we treated you”

“Considering I cannot even count the number of broken bones nor abrasions that you have dealt me, I would say you were correct in your assessment of the situation.”

“It was a pleasure talking with you but now I must leave you to the tender mercies of our mutual friend Frederic, I’m sure you remember his… lust for certain actions very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry everyone for the massive delay, I have had exams that have just taken over my life. Thankfully they are over now and I hope to be updating more regularly and actually finish this story soon! :D Thank you for everyone who has stuck with me and for your kind comments, as usual please read and review :D


	32. Pain no one should suffer

Athos, Porthos and D'artagnan sat clustered around the fire they had hastily built, murmuring in quiet whispers about the newest addition to their travelling party. Athos had already imparted his suspicions as to the identity of their impromptu visitor to his brothers, and conducted a thorough perusal of the boy's, for that was what he really was still just a child's, belongings.

They had felt it would be a little heartless to tie the boy up with ropes, and so Porthos had settled for a single coil of rope secured around his ankle and the base of a tree. It would be enough to slow him down so that one of them could prevent his escape in time.

A thin and ratty blanket, one of D'artagnan's old ones that was really only good for wrapping belongings in, had been draped over his still form to keep the worst of the chill off. Athos was slightly concerned, his knowledge of medicine was elementary at best and he had no way of knowing if the boy was in any danger from his injuries, superficial though they may be, and if Aramis were here he would be checking him over multiple times.

He felt a pang of pain in his heart as he contemplated his missing brother, their missing piece and he quickly averted his gaze, eyes landing on the small form of Gabriel. Hope reignited in his heart, that boy could lead them to Aramis and that was all that mattered at this point.

He tuned back into his brother's conversation to hear them discussing the finer points of cheating at cards, and pushed himself to his feet in frustration. Porthos and D'artagnan watched warily as their leader paced furiously around the fire, wincing periodically at the thunderous expression on his face, and practically able to feel the sarcastic comments that would be hitting them in the face later.

A low groan drifted to them across the fire and D'artagnan scooped a sleeping Gabriel into his arms, spinning to place his own body between the child and their captive. The man slowly seemed to regain his senses, holding his head as he blinked his eyes open blearily,

"Oh" he exhaled shakily, "I had hoped that was all a dream".

Pushing himself into a sitting position he gazed warily at the three men armed to the teeth that were standing imposingly before him, arms crossed and expressions hostile "If you're going to kill me, I would have thought you would have done so already."

Athos scoffed angrily "Why would we kill you when you have the answers that we seek?"

"What answers? Oh you mean about the one named Aramis" the man concluded with a sad smile "I may be loyal to the Lord Albert but it does not extend to barbaric atrocities such as those"

Porthos seized the man by the collar and lifted him, choking and gasping out of the mud until his toes barely grazed the floor, he thrust his face into the other mans and growled threateningly. "What atrocities? What have they done to Aramis!"

"I think it best I do not answer that question, for your peace of mind and my own continued survival. The most I can do is lead you to their destination and hope you find your friend there, I am a man of honour who will not condone their actions and I hope you will believe that I had no hand in this."

"That's a little difficult considering you associate yourself with Albert, I am familiar with his methods"

"I am aware of that, Master Olivier, you were a regular visitor with your father in years past and my father spoke highly of you, on more than one occasion I was the grateful recipient of your kindness." His speech was easier as he was returned to firm ground, Porthos releasing him to return to the useless but cathartic action of clenching his fists and jaw so tightly a muscle jumped.

Athos levelled a considering gaze at the young man before him, some twenty years his junior much the same as D'artagnan, recognition at last sparking in his eyes. In the corners of his memory, shadowy images began to form, dark swirls solidifying into the forms of the insufferable Albert and his equally insufferable father in the marble entrance hall of his manor.

_The conversation that day had been particularly mind numbing, enough so that his brain saw fit to just gloss over the details and replace it with a mildly aggravating buzzing sound. His younger self was swaying rhythmically on his feet, anything to occupy his mind, although he was earning some murderous glares from the side of his father's eyes. It did little to stop him however as he had long since become immune to his father's disproval._

_Instead he decided that he would take his leave of this madness and began to wander through the corridors of the hulking manor, it was just as he began to consider retracing his steps and returning to his father before he decided a whipping would be in order, when raised voices filtered towards him through the shrubbery._

_"_ _YOU STUPID BOY!" a large man whose face was an alarming shade of puce, was towering in all his jowly glory above a small boy who could have been no more than six years of age, who was cowering with his fingers clutched around a rather dusty horse's bridle._

_"_ _HIS LORDSHIP HAS IMPORTANT VISITORS AND YOU ARE RISKING HIS REPUTATION WITH YOUR PURE IDIOCY, LOOK AT THIS!" he flung a hand towards the ruined riding gear "YOU HAVE DESTROYED COMTE DE LA FERE'S PROPERTY AND YOU WILL PAY FOR IT!"_

_As his voice began to crack from all the yelling he gestured impatiently to his groundsman and was presented with an item the young Olivier was all too familiar with, a crude home-made whip._

_By this point agonised, terrified sobs were echoing across the courtyard, the young boy too rattled to move and Olivier had an image of himself, kneeling frozen on the cold stone of the cellar, too exhausted to vocalise the tears running down his cheeks and the sobs shaking his body, blood running in rivulets down his back from the crevices left by the whip._

_"_ _I don't believe that is necessary" he stepped forward into view, boots clicking in the shocked silence, despite the turmoil of emotions plaguing his brain, Olivier remained calm and unruffled on the surface._

_"_ _Master La Fere" the man stammered, sweat beading on his forehead "this boy has damaged your property and I will carry out the punishment immediately"_

_"_ _And I said no" he reaffirmed, "those are my belongings, he is merely a child and I require no satisfaction for the damage. Now leave!"_

_At his roar they all scarpered, leaving the courtyard deserted but for Olivier and the young boy who was sniffling quietly on the floor._

_"_ _It's alright" Olivier murmured, awkwardly kneeling on one knee and resting a hand on narrow shoulders "I will not allow him to hurt you"_

_The boy met his eyes with red rimmed eyes of his own, lip trembling and breath hitching "thank you Monsieur, thank you"_

_"I_ _would not wish the pain of that on anyone, tell me your name and I will ensure your master treats you kindly"_

_"_ _I am Luc, Monsieur. I owe you a great debt for your kindness."_

_"_ _I am Athos and you owe me nothing, now run along and have some fun before that ugly man returns"_

_"_ _I will sir, thank you sir" he gushed and bolted away down the expansive gardens._

_Athos smiled to himself in accomplishment, he had achieved a noble action and he felt that this would set out the course of the rest of his life, helping others and upholding the law._

"Luc?" Athos asked in disbelief, a slight smile twitching at the corners of his lips, "is that really you? I am surprised you remember that day, you were very young"

"I could never forget" the young man replied simply.

"Sorry to interrupt" Porthos snarled "but neither of us have any idea what is going on and Aramis is still missing!"

"I met this young man many years ago now and without a doubt he can be trusted."

"Well that's wonderful isn't it" the sarcasm was clear to hear in Porthos' voice but the others understood and refrained from holding it against him. "Can we get back to finding our missing brother now?"

"Athos" the young man spoke up "we must return to where it all began, you know where I mean"

Athos paled dramatically and swayed slightly where he stood, a worried D'artagnan rushing to support him.

"I do" was his hoarse whisper.


	33. For Goodness Sake Athos

"What did he mean the place where it all began?"� Porthos murmured aside to Athos, sparing a suspicious glance for Luc where he sat by the fire with D'artagnan "what is going on?"�

The older man sighed in exasperation, scrubbing at his bearded face with a hand and fixing his brother with an apologetic look. "I cannot even begin to put into words the depth of remorse I feel for getting you all involved in this. I would that I could have put this all behind me and left you lot out of all this, but it looks like it was not meant to be."�

Athos gritted his teeth, only sheer stubbornness and force of will preventing him from flinching away from Porthos as he all but exploded. It was not that he was afraid of his brother, goodness knows he would never intentionally hurt him unless it was for his own good, no it was more to do with the fact that he was incredibly guilty about the whole debacle. Plus he had a reputation for being stoic, no way was he going to display emotion and ruin that despite knowing his brothers knew it for the absolute rubbish it was.

"I don't care about your self-deprecating rubbish Athos!"� Porthos bellowed, drawing the startled attention of the two men by the fire, darting nervous glances at the ticking time bomb of a man and sincerely hoping they could stay inconspicuously over in their corner away from his wrath. "No matter what happened it's always your fault and nothing I can say will convince you otherwise, even if you had broken all four limbs or were incarcerated on the other side of the country it would still somehow be down to you. So I have learnt to ignore whatever comes out of your mouth when it begins with I and contains anything to do with remorse."

Giving a low chuckle, he clapped Athos on the shoulder, "now we must get to the root of this issue, please tell me what he meant"�

They were interrupted by D'artagnan as he rolled his eyes and ushered the two over to rejoin them by the fire. "I think we all need to hear this" he murmured, genuine empathy in his deep brown eyes, "for your sake as much as ours."�

"As much as it pains me to say, you are completely right"� Athos concurred, face resuming its emotionless state "as you now all know, I was once the Comte de la Fere. You were there in Pinon and you saw the house, what you were not aware of was that Anne was not the only evil to plague the region, my father was as dangerous if not more so. Luc can attest to that"�

Focus switched to their newest addition who nodded earnestly, hair flopping across his face. "All of the servants knew of him, he was the most feared of all the visiting lords. You kept out of the way for fear of losing your life, or worse your job. He was essentially a demon in an even uglier demons clothing. Or is that going too far, he was your dad?"�

"No I would say that is fair. I was familiar with his methods, not only was he violent but he was a shrewd businessman. Perhaps shrewd is the wrong word, he was unscrupulous and stripped many of all they had. I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone became upset with this and plotted revenge, I just wasn't expecting it to be in the form of my wife." Athos sighed heavily.

"Wait Milady married you because of your father?"� D'artagnan asked in disbelief

"Not quite but you're almost right."

The older man conceded with as much of a wry smile as he ever gave, just a slight twitch of the lips "originally we met in Paris whilst my brother and I were travelling, she was unaware as to our identity until much later when I can only assume she found her position as my wife to be advantageous. Her family were made bankrupt by mine and she was forced to grow up as a thief and murderess which my brother discovered and you know the story from there, what better revenge?"�

"But what has this got to do with Aramis?"� Porthos asked in a hushed tone, mindful of his brother's sacrifice and struggle in revealing even this much.

"Well, the woman I was intended to marry prior to meeting Anne was the daughter of a wealthy Comte, when I broke off the engagement for a woman of unknown origins he was furious. He attempted to ruin my father in the eyes of the King but it backfired and he disappeared off the face of the earth, not before swearing to take revenge. Luc here was and still is in the employ of this man, the Comte de Albert. This is how I know he is involved, I can only imagine who it is that has teamed up with him but it has something to do with Savoy."�

"Of course it does"� Porthos couldn't restrain himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation, "what else could it be? That was rhetorical"� he continued, glaring as Luc opened his mouth to respond.

He turned back to Athos "Where did it all begin Ath?"�

"A manor house not too far from Pinon. It is where I first met Aramis, Anne and Albert. We can be there in around five hours if we travel light and we travel fast."�

"You met Aramis there?" D'artagnan asked "how on earth did that happen?"�

"Aramis was a soldier for years before we joined the Musketeers, he was on an errand for the infantry when we met. It was nothing serious but he met Albert also, I cannot help but think it all stems from there somehow."�

All four men had migrated gradually to settle around the fire while they were talking, casting furtive glances at Gabriel to ensure he remained asleep. After mutual agreement, they had decided that Athos would take first watch and they would leave at first light, travel all day if they had to, to reach Aramis.

Athos remained at his post, deceptively relaxed as he gazed into the fire with every fibre of his being on high alert, ears straining for any noise that was out of place, eyes watching for movement. In his mind the images of Aramis, his wife and his brother lying dead on the floor played in a disturbing loop, with Aramis taking the place of his brother, lifeless brown eyes in the place of blue. He could not shake the feeling of foreboding that settled deep in his gut and set to cleaning his weapons with methodical, economical movements and prepared for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for how late this chapter was and how heavy it is with dialogue but it’s setting up the action for the next chapters and giving you some teasers for the culprits. I hope to have the next chapter quite soon but not sure when, stay tuned :D


	34. Last Resort

The sun began to slowly creep across the sky, hues of red and gold shining like a wildfire that blazed furiously over the horizon. Dark clouds lingered on the periphery, ominously threatening a downpour of epic proportions that promised to saturate your clothes and pool unpleasantly in your collar. All of this meteorological activity was lost on Aramis, given the fact that he was currently splayed in a rather undignified manner in the cellar of a dreadfully draughty house, the darkness was suffocating, the lack of windows making it difficult to see your hand in front of your face.

A thin, reedy strip of light filtered through the cracks in the doorframe, flickering in and out of existence like a candle in a breeze. Aramis could not quite place how long he had been in the cellar, it was rather difficult to track the passage of time even for him when he could not see outside. At best guess around five hours had passed since those heathens had ceased their violent ministrations, bound him tightly to the back of a horse once again and thrown him down a flight of stairs once they arrived, leaving him to wallow in a rather damp, mouldy smelling puddle on the floor and locking him in with a parting jibe and the information that they were waiting for someone.

By this point he was thoroughly fed up, distantly in the back of his mind he recognised that the ones they were waiting for were probably his brothers, but his mind was too fuzzy to grasp such details. The only thought on his mind was that he wished they would just hurry up and arrive, was it too much to ask for them to get their skates on, as a soldier punctuality was essential and he dearly wished others would live by that creed also. It would make life a great deal easier.

"How much further Athos?"� Porthos grumbled, shifting irritably in his saddle, more from impatience than discomfort although a steady ache had begun to throb and make itself known in the small of his back.

"About three lieu give or take"� was his measured response, left hand flicking out towards the horizon "that way. You should catch a glimpse of the house soon."�

Sure enough, not even five minutes later and an imposing mansion was rising up from beyond the tree line, towering above their heads and bearing down upon them, with windows which resembled eyes almost seeming to peer out at them and observe their approach.

D'artagnan shivered, an eerie chill travelling down his spine alongside cooling sweat "Is it just me or is that house watching us?"� he nervously tucked a lock of hair behind his ear to disguise his shaking hand.

"Don't be ridiculous D'artagnan" was Porthos' response with a slight scoff, although he was noticeably a shade paler than normal. "A house cannot be watching anything"�

All three men jumped and ducked as a bullet went singing past their heads, their horses rearing up and whinnying in fright, hooves windmilling frantically through the air.

"Houses may not be able to, but the people within are perfectly capable!"� came the familiar roar from Athos as they reigned in their horses and cantered furiously towards the tree line, hoping that even its sparse shelter would provide them some cover from enemy fire. "Quickly, out of the line of fire!"�

Luckily they all made it safely beyond the boundary of the house and into a little copse of trees that hid them entirely from the windows. The men inside would have to invest in x-ray goggles in order to pin point their exact location and Athos knew of no other than Aramis who would be capable of making that shot. Moments later his theory was proven as bark splintered some ten metres off to their left, some poor tree bearing the brunt of a bullet meant for them.

"So what is the plan then?"� their youngest companion piped up excitedly, "how can we get to the house if they are going to shoot at us?"�

"That Gabriel, is a very good question"� Athos murmured, brow furrowed in thought as intelligent blue eyes scanned the surroundings in search of a way across. There was a large, manicured stretch of grass between them and the house, maybe fifty foot in total and entirely without topiary bushes or handily placed shrub mazes to hide behind. He cursed vehemently, unable to see any way for all three men to make it across the stretch without being picked off one by one, the only option was to create a diversion and slip undetected in the back door. He could not however in good conscience allow any of his brothers to come to harm given this was a mission to save a life, not forfeit one.

"There is only one way Ath" a warm hand descended on his shoulder as Porthos scanned the environment alongside his brother, Athos sighed in accordance and turned to the rest of the men.

"Right, I will fire at this ground floor window here"� Athos pointed to the nearest window "you will then also fire in the same direction whilst I attempt to sprint to the door. Once all enemies have been dispatched, you can then enter. Is it understood?"�

"Understood and discounted!"� D'artagnan cried in outrage. "That is a suicide mission, you cannot do that!"�

"We do not have any better options!"� Athos barked, swiping a hand through the air in frustration, "I do not like it anymore than you do but Aramis is in there and it is my fault."�

"Sir"� Gabriel piped up, "there is one other option, I used to deliver messages here from time to time. I can knock on the front door and distract them while you sneak in the back."�

The men stared slightly open mouthed at the young boy, for that was actually the best idea that could possibly have come out of the situation.

"Well that sounds perfect."�

Athos, Porthos and D'artagnan crouched uncomfortably in the undergrowth, peering around the trunk of a tree to watch the small boy approach the front door. Now Athos was thanking providence for their meeting and subsequent decision to bring the child along with them. Muscles coiled tightly, trembling ever so slightly with adrenaline and anticipation, ready to explode into action as soon as the great oak front door swung open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The action is beginning guys! Stay tuned for a really dramatic chapter next time, thank you all for your reviews they are much appreciated. :D


	35. Mission Dubiously Possible

The muffled banging of gunshots filtered through the earth above his head, just barely reaching him enough to register that it was indeed the rapport of pistols that he was hearing. It was a sound that he would recognise above all else, even if he were to forget his own name, the smell of freshly burning gunpowder, the click of a weapon being cocked and the bang of discharge, that he would never forget. His fingers itched to curl themselves around the pommel of his own specially designed pistol or his harquebus, it was always as if a part of himself was missing when he was separated from his weapons including his rapier.

Silence fell once again in the courtyard above his head, leaving him to ponder on what all the excitement was about, he hoped they hadn't been wasting gunpowder shooting at rabbits. Then all of a sudden a roar of outrage that sounded disturbingly like Athos when D'artagnan pissed him off, which thinking about it now happened with alarming regularity, at least once a day. No actually, it had the panicked tone that he usually associated with some reckless act that he himself had perpetrated, in fact it was frankly quite similar to Treville's shout when he threw himself on that bomb.

Wait, Athos. That was definitely Athos. Oh those fools, they had come to rescue him and unwittingly, or deliberately played right into their enemies hands in order to do so regardless of the possible repercussions. The thought of the harm that could come to his brothers now that they had thrown themselves into the fray here, was enough to motivate his aching limbs into motion and kick start his brain.

Aramis pushed himself to his hands and knees, arms shaking violently with fatigue. His hand slipped from beneath him, elbow slamming painfully into the concrete and he swore vehemently at the burning pain it elicited but at least he avoided injuring his face. Goodness knows if he were to hit his head once more it could spell disaster, he had tried his best to curl into himself and protect his head when blows had been raining down upon him but he had been unsuccessful. He was familiar with the symptoms of a concussion and the blurry vision and pounding headache were clear signs, but he battled through the dizziness that threatened to floor him as the world swayed and black spots swam in his vision to finally find his feet.

He winced as he placed his feet flat on the floor, soles protesting the abuse they had suffered and muscles burning at supporting his admittedly small body weight. In the end he made it to the doorway, pausing and straining his ears for any sign of a skirmish upstairs.

Slowly he reached out and grasped the door handle, tentatively pushing the door open and branding himself a fool when it swung open easily, unlocked and unguarded. On the other hand he thanked his guards' lackadaisical attitude towards security which allowed him to walk out, his brothers and he would have taken it in shifts even if their prisoner was in no fit state for daring escape attempts.

Looking at the stairs before him felt like facing eternal suffering or at least the prospect of a full days march on an empty stomach or worse. Painfully he began to drag his broken body up the concrete incline, keeping his attention focussed on the noises he was hearing upstairs, mainly for any sign of his brother's welfare.

Gabriel nervously crept up to the imposing oak door and tapped timidly before waiting anxiously for a response. He nervously shifted from foot to foot as time stretched on with no answer, a quick glance to the men in the trees revealed they were as bemused as he was.

"Why aren't they answering?" D'artagnan whispered impatiently, glaring at the door as if the force of his gaze would make it spontaneously combust.

"If you had just seen Musketeers crossing your land, were holding one of their comrades prisoner and then got a knock at the door you weren't expecting, would you answer?"� Athos' tone was distinctly sardonic as he raised an eyebrow at the Gascon and gestured to Gabriel to knock again.

Gabriel nodded and taking a deep breath, hammered against the wood. He then leapt back as fast as his legs would allow, clasping his hands behind his back as the door was flung open, smashing off the wall with a deafening crash.

"What do you want?" a burly man sneered down his nose at the boy.

"Message for the master sir"� he chirped cheerily.

"Go, go, go" Athos whispered, crouching low and running across the open space, rapier in hand and jaw set in determination. The others followed, occasional glances sent towards the doorway to check the occupants were still engaged in conversation.

"Now what?" Porthos asked as they crowded around the back door, chests heaving with adrenaline.

"Now, we enter"�

Pushing open the door, they held their breath as they waited for it to creak loudly. Thankfully it swung open relatively silently, and they managed to creep in undetected.

The manor looked unlived in, almost derelict to the untrained eye. The corridors were teeming with cobwebs, dust rising in clouds with every step they took on its carpeted floor and the lanterns on the wall were more broken than not. To the three men traipsing the halls, it was a veritable goldmine of information. There was a clearly visible trail of footprints in the layers of dirt on the floor and the working lanterns signified were the occupants were using, one trail split off from the others and this was the one they chose, figuring the path less taken would lead them to their brother.

They had barely taken a few steps when Aramis came stumbling around the corner, arm outstretched and fingers trailing against the wall to steady himself. He looked once again like death warmed over and it scared them to death that he looked so terrible.

"Aramis!" Porthos cried, rushing over and wrapping Aramis up in his arms before he collapsed.

"Stop right there!"�

Spinning around the men were faced by the entire population of the manor house holding them at gunpoint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you all like this chapter, I am not that great at writing action so if there's anything you think is missing let me know! Hopefully another chapter this weekend so stay tuned :D


	36. Problem After Problem

"Dammit"� Athos cursed, pushing his brothers behind him and drawing his pistol.

They were facing at least ten men in a frustratingly narrow corridor, with no idea of how many other men were in the building that could possibly converge on them within minutes, but the confined space did work in their favour. The men were struggling to draw their own weapons, bumping elbows and jostling each other in their haste to arm themselves.

Slowly, with arms outstretched and encompassing his brothers behind him, Athos began to creep ever so gradually backwards. Thankfully the others complied without a single word of question or complaint, and they had withdrawn around the corner before their pursuers had realised.

"Porthos take Aramis and get out of here, he is in no fit state to be anywhere near a battlefield"�

"Right" Porthos agreed, hefting his friend's less than substantial weight into his arms and began retracing his steps without a word of complaint. His friend's well being was more important than his own lust for blood and desire for glory in defeating his opponents.

"D'artagnan, we are going to have to create yet another distraction"� there was an air of exasperation in Athos' tone as he unsheathed his rapier and held it loosely in his right hand. "Wait for my signal... Dammit!"�

D'artagnan, true to character, had launched himself round the corner with a fierce cry of rage and started to, for lack of a better word, hack and slash at the men. It wasn't a bad plan, the young Gascon was an able swordsman and was keeping abreast of the tide of opponents, but in the end it was bound to end in disaster if Athos were to not get involved. It frustrated him to no end that the boy would not listen when he began to detail a plan, it was tiresome, and more often than not made life much more complicated than needs be.

He executed a neat spin, pirouetting smoothly on the heel of his right foot and slashing cleanly across the chest of the nearest man, narrowly parrying a swipe aimed at separating his head from his body. He wasn't really in the mood for being decapitated today, it would be most inconvenient considering he still had many items on his to do list of life.

Soon the two men had whittled down their opponents to a much more manageable three, their superior training and skills allowing them to disarm easily. They had not escaped uninjured however, both men sporting superficial grazes that, although bleeding profusely and seeming to be mortal wounds to the untrained eye, were merely surface wounds that took on the appearance of a fountain of blood. As Aramis always said they were reminiscent of a work of Shakespeare or some other playwright who was fond of Senecan drama and gore, they certainly imitated the dramatic demises of the protagonists who were mortally wounded and writhed in death throes dramatically.

Shaking his head to dispel the disconcertingly distracted thoughts, Athos watched with no small measure of amusement as the final three looked fearfully between their downed comrades lying splayed on the floor, and the two Musketeers facing them, resembling bloody and wrathful avengers who would cut them down without a second thought.

The first one broke and ran screaming pitifully down the corridor in the opposite direction, the remaining two shared a panicked glance and followed suit, their high pitched cries filling the manor house.

"Well that was"�

"Invigorating"� D'artagnan laughed in exhilaration, the adrenaline of the fight pumping through his veins like a drug, he could feel it rushing like sparks of electricity that made his arms twitch with the need to keep moving.

"I was more inclined to say bizarre"� was Athos' wry response to the boys youthful exuberance, whilst he still experienced the unique rush that came with battle, it was tempered by worry and the knowledge of numerous battles and, to his honed senses, something had been very wrong with that battle.

"So what is the plan now?"� D'artagnan swept his long dark hair back from his sweaty forehead and considered their de facto leader as he frowned deeply in thought.

Gradually Athos' face cleared and he sheathed his sword, careful to keep a hand resting on the hilt to draw in seconds if the need arose.

"We follow those men, hopefully it will lead us to the perpetrators of this entire mess. Not only that, but something feels wrong about all this"� he murmured, doing his best to ignore the feelings of foreboding that were taking over.

And so they began to make their way slowly and cautiously through the enormous manor, Athos peering round corners and then beckoning for the younger man to follow once the coast was clear. The usual clicking sound of their leather boots was deadened by the thick, blood red carpet that blanketed the cold marble of the floor.

Athos silently gave thanks for the designer of the manor who had decided that cold feet simply wouldn't do for people of their financial standing, for as they rounded the next corner five heavily armed men exited a room ahead of them, thankfully facing the opposite direction and if not for the carpet they would have been spotted straight away as they ducked back.

"The Master is on the level of a genius"� one of them was gushing sycophantically to his companions, "his trap for those idiotic Musketeers is without flaw and working like a well oiled machine"�

"Oh do shut up Gerard, you have your head so far up the Master's backside you wouldn't know the light of day if it shone in your eyes. You have no concept of whether a plan is working or not. If this plan was so successful then why is it we only have two Musketeers in custody, was it deliberate that the other two are allowed to gallivant around the manor?"�

Clearly the smaller man was surprised by the venom in his companions tone and recoiled slightly at the disgusted sneer that was aimed his way.

Interesting, Athos could not help but inwardly rejoice at this revelation, not that he would ever admit that to anyone, he had a controlled exterior to present at all times. This conflict was something he could exploit to his advantage, this was why the Musketeers could not be infiltrated, they were too loyal whereas these soldiers could be convinced to turn on one another with the help of a few sous.

"Shit, shit shit shit, Athos"� D'artagnan cursed, turning wide eyes to his Lieutenant, "they have Porthos and Aramis!"�

Recognition blossomed on the elders face as he turned over the soldiers words once again in his mind, the two they mentioned could only be their brothers.

"I knew that fight was all wrong"� he spat out through gritted teeth, furious with himself for missing this detail "it must have been staged to distract us, that way they could capture Porthos and Aramis without us hearing a thing. We won too easily, I allowed arrogance to cloud my judgement"�

"It's not your fault Athos"� he couldn't hold himself back from disagreeing with Athos' self deprecating words "we had no reason to suspect they would go after Mis and Porthos, that they had even noticed they were gone!"�

"It is my job to suspect!"� he shouted in a whisper, swiping his left hand through the air in a swift cutting motion to emphasise his words. "Now we must follow these men and hope against hope that they will lead us to our brothers"�

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! As usual please let me know what you think. I'm on holiday so updates will hopefully be fast, I'm already halfway through the next chapter :D


	37. So Close Yet So Far

"Come on Mis, you need to help me out a little bit here"� Porthos murmured into his friends ear, unsure if he was even conscious to hear his words. He stretched a little to press a concerned kiss to his brother's sweaty brow and hoisted him a little higher, pulling his arm further across his broad shoulders. "You may be light but I can only carry you for so long"�

A low mumbling moan issued from Aramis tortured lips and he began to fight to put one foot in front of the other, unwilling to allow his brother to suffer and struggle on his behalf. Porthos tightened his grip as his brother stumbled on shaky legs.

"That's it Mis, we're gettin out of here"� he encouraged warmly, flicking a cursory glance behind them to check they weren't being followed.

"No, I'm afraid you are not"�

Aramis whimpered pitifully at the sound of his voice, fighting against the hands restraining him, desperate to escape the pain that always accompanied his presence. He no longer recognised the large, warm hands of his brother.

Porthos swore, head jerking up to be met with the sight of five heavily armed men blocking their path, swords and pistols levelled in their direction. In front of them stood a well dressed nobleman type, black boots shiny enough you could see your reflection in them, it was he who had so cruelly ripped their freedom from them and when he spoke Aramis went crazy. He swore again as he had to grapple with his wildly thrashing brother, gritting his teeth to ignore the gloating imbecile in front of him.

Eventually the man became fed up with waiting for Aramis to surface from his paroxysm of panic, jerking his head meaningfully at his men who advanced and had to rip his petrified brother from Porthos' arms, who refused to relinquish him. Hs own arms were then seized roughly and yanked behind his back, metal shackles clicking into place around his wrists, cinching tightly and pinching the delicate skin. He hissed lowly in discomfort, shoulders protesting the movement as he was dragged along in the wake of the other men, Aramis putting up a spirited fight until he was cracked round the head with the pommel of a sword.

The primal roar of rage was deafening, ricocheting off the walls and bouncing around the manor, doubtless it could have been heard even by the nearest neighbours whom were at least five miles away. The volume surprised even Porthos himself but the sight of Aramis hanging limply in the arms of a hostile soldier, blood streaming down his lax face, pushed him over the edge, flicked a switch in him that he could not control.

All he knew was that they would pay for this.

* * *

 

A deafening scream startled Athos and D'artagnan where they were loitering, waiting impatiently for the group of soldiers to move on with their patrol. Athos' head snapped up to face the direction of the scream, mouth fixed in a grim line.

"That was..."�

"Either a wounded bull or Porthos"� Athos finished for the younger Gascon, "I do not know whether I should be thankful or not that this time, that was rage in lieu of pain"�

"I've only heard him make that noise in anger once before and that was when Aramis jumped into the river after a criminal. I thought he would kill Aramis himself for that one"� D'artagnan chuckled in remembrance.

"Come, it can only signify bad news in this situation"�

D'artagnan conceded Athos' point, Porthos would not have risked Aramis' safety with such a loud exclamation that would immediately give away their position, not even if he had been mortally wounded, unless their position had already been compromised.

Suddenly something occurred to the younger man "Athos" The older turned to him with an expectant eyebrow raised "this has all been a set up right from the very start, those soldiers can't have known Aramis and Porthos were captured if they hadn't yet been captured"�

Athos nodded curtly and gestured for the Gascon to follow him quietly, "then we must tread very carefully indeed, if this is true, as it seems to be, then we are following a path already laid out for us"� he carried on as D'artagnan opened his mouth to protest "there is little we can do about it, but now we know we can be prepared for an ambush and hopefully gain the upper hand as long as they are not aware that we are aware, do you understand?"�

D'artagnan nodded regardless, deciphering the convoluted speech in his head and just about making sense of what the elder had been trying to say.

Shaking off his gloomy thoughts, Athos and D'artagnan crept in the footsteps of the soldiers, it would not do for him to be distracted by his own racing thoughts and miss some other pertinent detail that could be the difference between life and death.

After what seemed like hours but was in fact a tense five minutes of skulking around the corridors, hearts beating a mile a minute, they came to a halt before enormous wooden doors that reminded Athos uncomfortably of the double doors that lined his own manor.

"Here goes nothing" D'artagnan muttered bracingly as they pushed the doors open surprisingly easily for their size, taking only a slight pressure.

The scene that greeted them was something out of their worst nightmare, but even in their wildest imagination their minds could not have conjured such a distressing and horrific scene, for it was beyond description.

Aramis was on his knees in the middle of the room, more covered in blood than not. A rather disturbing amount had pooled on the floor beneath him, clothes in tatters and scrapes clearly visible. His hands had been tightly bound behind his back and were connected to the rope that also bound his ankles together, preventing any kind of movement or escape attempt, not that he looked in any condition to even think about attempting it. Porthos was struggling against similar bonds in the corner of the room, face murderous and eyes locked on his injured brother, not even sparing a glance for the arrival of his other brother's.

The most concerning aspect of the whole situation was the pistol levelled unwaveringly at Aramis' head by a man that was familiar to them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The action is really kicking off now (I hope), if there’s anything you want to see or want more of then let me know! I appreciate all your reviews so much, thanks to everyone who has a kind word or some constructive input for this story. Hopefully another chapter shouldn’t be long in coming :D


	38. Motive?

"Ah Athos, how nice of you to finally join us. I was beginning to wonder if we would have to start the party without you, but we could not have you missing all the fun. Poor Aramis here cannot cope with all the excitement, I mean look at him, he is practically dead on his feet"�

No one but the deranged nobleman laughed at his sadistic and extremely weak attempt at a pun, merely serving to infuriate Porthos even more and set Athos' teeth on edge. The fact that there was no answering snark from Aramis just reinforced the anger rushing through their veins, set to erupt like boiling lava from a volcano and destroy everything in its path. Preferably the smug idiot.

"End this nonsense, you will not live but at least your death will be with honour and I shall be more lenient with your punishment. Or continue with this folly and regret the day you were born"� Athos' tone was so sharp it could almost cut

"Oh Athos, now now now" the man shook his head in exasperation "you know me well enough to know that is not how it goes."

"I do know you indeed Francois Acy, or should I say Alec Albert." His tone was measured and even, a far cry from the fury in Porthos' body language.

"Ah, I had wondered how long it would take you to figure that old chestnut out."� The young man laughed with delight, "My father spoke about you all the time Athos, so when I was given the opportunity to join the Musketeers, I leapt at the chance. Meeting the great Olivier De La Fere, how could I resist"�

"I wasn't aware that your father thought so highly of me, the last I knew he would have seen me dead for rejecting your dear sister"�

"Oh yes, he was fuming for a very long time but he also admired your gumption, no one has dared to defy him in such a manner before. You became an object of fascination for him, an obsession." Alec spat with no small amount of bitter feeling.

"What has this got to do with Aramis?"� Porthos cried, "I can understand a vendetta against Athos if your father obsessed over him and not you but why drag us into this?"�

"Well you see, that would be my partner Frederic's input." The noble began, pacing back and forth before his four captives, gesturing towards another young man who stepped forward from the shadows where he had been lurking silently. "Besides, what better way to hurt this seemingly invulnerable man than target his beloved brothers?"�

"I could think of a few" D'artagnan murmured in exasperation.

"Enough with this chit chat!"� Frederic screamed pounding his fists in the air, "I want to destroy him!"�

"Not on my watch"� Porthos roared back, struggling once more against his bonds.

"Oh calm down you brute" Alec sighed, "there is not really much you could do about it in your position now is there?"� he cast a cursory eye up and down Porthos suggestively "Frederic won't touch your precious little Aramis until I tell him to, ergo, keep me happy and your brother will live"� he smiled sweetly.

"And how exactly do we achieve that?"� Athos asked, aware of the fact that they held none of the power in this situation, therefore the best way to ensure survival was to comply with the crazy man's demands.

"You hand yourself over to me, without protest or resistance, for me to do with you whatever I wish."�

"Agreed"�

"What Athos no!"� three voices cried simultaneously.

"I was not expecting this to be so simple" Alec murmured bemused, "I at least thought there would be some resistance, some swordage, a few tears maybe more"�

"Athos"� Aramis cried weakly, managing to raise his head and fix his gaze with Athos' blue, "I am not worth it, don't ruin your life for my sake."�

"It is my life and I shall do with it what I wish my friend"� Athos responded gently, taking a step forward in surrender.

Suddenly Athos had his sword in his hand and had separated a man's head from his body, pressing the point to Alec's jugular.

"No one, and I mean no one... hurts my friends"� he whispered menacingly in the other man's ear.

Alec shivered at the hot breath on his ear, and the manic glint in the steely blue eyes of his opponent.

The battle was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really short chapter and so much dialogue! I don’t know when the next update will be as I am getting ready for Uni but hopefully you guys won’t have to wait too long!


	39. Athos the unstoppable

“Francois!” an agonised cry echoed around the clearing and one of Albert’s men came sprinting forwards and collapsed beside the body that lay, sans head, in the dirt. Tears streamed down his cheek as he bawled noisily, clutching his friend’s cold, limp hand to his cheek in his misery.

 

“I apologise for the death of your friend” Athos murmured, neither sword nor eyes wavering from Alec “but the blame here lies solely with your Lord, it’s up to you decide if you want to follow his orders and end up the same way as your comrade here… or run far away and hope you never see my face again”

 

A minute of silence followed his declaration, then all hell broke loose with men rushing hither and thither like headless chickens, ending with only four of Albert’s reinforcements standing to attention, swords held in slightly shaky grips.

 

“Cowards” Alec spat in disgust, clenching his fist tighter about the hilt of his own sword and eyeing Athos’ sword tip warily as it wavered with each bob of his Adams apple when he swallowed. “You would leave your Lord to die after all that I have done for you!”

 

“What have you done for them exactly?” Porthos asked quietly from where he stood wriggling in his bonds, “Apart from lead them to their deaths”

 

“Don’t you recognise these men my dear Athos, of course why would you when you have neglected them so terribly”

 

Athos’ eyes widened in shock, mouth dropping slightly slack and an exhale gusting out as if he had been physically struck by the insinuation.  
“It can’t be” he mouthed, horrified.

 

“Oh, but it is” the smarmy grin on Alec’s face put Porthos’ hackles up but he was still no closer to freeing himself from the ropes binding his wrists, it was becoming ever more imperative that he do so every second as he watched Athos tense, the muscles in his back bunching and warping, hands clenching. “When you and your whore wife abandoned Pinon, it quickly fell to the dogs, disease and debauchery ran riot through the streets. Crops decayed, people starved and where was their Lord Athos throughout all this? Drowning himself in the devil’s liquid in a tavern in Paris! I Lord Albert was their saviour, pulling them from the pits of despair and giving them a purpose so you ask me what I did for them, I did everything!”

 

The manic megalomaniacal cackle echoed gratingly around the clearing, disrupted only by the grinding of Athos’ teeth from where he was clenching his jaw so much, the only thing preventing him from flinching away from the sound.

 

“You know nothing of what my life was like, nothing of what Anne did to me, nothing of my reasons for leaving Pinon as I did. I am ashamed of my conduct in shirking my duties but I was not fit to fulfil them, best I left my people in better hands than my own which would bring nothing but pain, suffering and death as they had done so recently”

 

“Oh spare me the sob story, you won’t get any pity from me. It doesn’t matter why you abandoned them, only that you did and I filled the void”

 

“Athos enough!” Porthos shouted as he watched his brother open his mouth and take a deep breath to argue vigorously with his adversary once more “he’s not worth it, save your breath and concentrate on what’s important here, Aramis!”

 

“Of course,” Athos nodded, flicking his eyes quickly to the left to glance at his injured brother who had yet to weigh in on the events around him other than to stare wide eyed and pleading at the older man standing protectively in front of him.

 

“Alec Albert, I am detaining you under authority of His Royal Highness King Louis, for the offences of murder, assault, kidnapping of a Musketeer, treason and finally just being a general piece of work”

 

Pulling a handy piece of rope from his belt, Athos deftly wrapped the nobles’ wrists, securing them together a little more securely than was probably comfortable, watching with some satisfaction as the skin pinched and began to turn red immediately.

 

“This will not stand and you know it” Alec growled, pulling away violently “the King would never convict a noble, not in million years”

 

“Are you sure of that?” was Athos’ simple response, a slight devilish grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

 

Alec paled abruptly, blood draining from his face in seconds as reality set in, every citizen in France knew of the King’s fluctuating mood, but the one thing he was always consistent with was his refusal to abide anyone acting against his Musketeers and in doing so, against the King himself.

 

Without even turning to address his friends’ condition, or even if he had escaped his bonds as of yet, Athos commanded Porthos to collect the Spaniard who was still quivering in his own world on the ground. Confident that he would be obeyed, he turned to D’artagnan, for even if he hadn’t told Porthos what to do, the bigger man would have been at his best friend’s side within seconds attempting to care for him.

 

“D’artagnan, collect their belongings and ready the horses. There may be something of import amongst it but we had better not linger here any longer, who knows what other lunatics he has wandering around out here”

 

“Hey! Are you calling me a lunatic?”

 

“I don’t know, am I?”

 

Athos smirked as a puzzled expression fell across Alec’s face, turning smartly on his heel he roughly tugged his prisoner across the clearing to where Roger was patiently waiting, before securing the rope that bound his wrists to the cunningly placed loop on his saddle that would force any tied to it to run awkwardly behind or be dragged through the dirt.

 

Meanwhile Porthos had lowered himself to kneel beside his friend, gently rubbing and massaging at his wrists. They hadn’t spared even a fraction of an inch when tying his wrists and he was most certainly feeling the pain of it now, the skin was reddened and irritated and his thumbs were slightly numb at the tips.

 

Ignoring his discomfort, he cautiously reached out, not wanting to startle his skittish brother, and cupped the narrow face in one large hand. Hopefully the contact and warmth would draw the younger man out of his mind.

 

“Hey, Mis, mon ami” he gently coaxed Aramis to turn and face him, thumb gently stroking across his cheekbones, until dark brown eyes clouded with confusion “let’s go home eh”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay in updating! Life has been so hectic, hopefully now I will be able to write a little more frequently and we’ll have more chapter soon. We are actually getting to the point where this story is nearing completion :D I have so many ideas for other stories once I have so nearer the time I’ll ask you guys what sort of story you want to see :D


	40. Things can never just be simple, can they?

Porthos had hauled his younger brother gently to his feet, neatly scooping him up into his arms when his legs refused to support him, and he was immediately in danger of kissing dirt once more.

 

The big man cursed, Aramis’ head lolling limply against one broad shoulder.

 

There was nary an inch of the smaller man’s skin that hadn’t been lacerated, bruised or was bleeding in some form and he was having trouble holding him without causing more pain.

In the end, with a murmured heartfelt apology, he resigned himself to the discomfort he would cause his friend and instead focussed on getting them both over to where his horse was waiting, resolving to complete the task as quickly as possible to get it over with.

 

The weak little whimper, whether out of fear or pain he couldn’t be sure, that Aramis let out struck him to the core. His heart clenched painfully within the confines of his chest and he felt rebellious tears pressing at his eyes. It had Athos turning away from where he was occupied with his own horse and he took his brothers weight from Porthos’ arms, cradling him against his chest and pressing a palm to his hot, clammy forehead.

 

“Get yourself mounted Porthos and I’ll pass him up. Do you have a cloth or something, he’s burning up already” Athos murmured in concern, running tender fingers through matted locks.

 

Porthos swung himself effortlessly up into his saddle, booted feet slipping neatly into the stirrups as he twisted to rummage through his saddle bag. Emerging victorious a couple of moments later, clutching his water skin and one of his spare shirts which he flapped in Athos’ face. Their stoic leader cracked a tiny grin, snagging the shirt by the sleeve and gently reaching up, handing over his ailing brother.

 

Seconds later, Aramis was settled astride Zad with Porthos, pushing his burning cheek into his brother’s strong chest.

It was unusual to find someone in this position, usually when they were forced to ride double, they would settle the injured party with their back pressed tightly to their chest to absorb the impact. The damage to Aramis’ back meant this was impossible, the pain would have been overwhelming and likely he would not have made it without passing out or causing more damage.

 

A warm hand cupped his head, encouraging him to wind his arms around his brother’s waist and cling tightly to his doublet or risk plummeting off a horse for the second time in as many days, an experience he was not eager to repeat. The slightly coarse leather that met his face was deliciously cool on his flushed skin and he sighed in relief, feeling the warmth of safety descend upon him like a blanket. He could tell even with his eyes closed that both his brothers were rallying around him, their presence like burning flames in the darkness, and the familiar slightly spicy scent of Porthos and the ever-present smoky smell of the Garrison was invading his nose.

 

It felt like home.

 

He whined like a small child when strong hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him gently away from Porthos, forcefully separating their bodies and making his abused muscles contract to keep him upright. The deep ache pulled another sound from his throat that was some amalgam of whimper and whine that he would deny making to his dying day. A cultured voice that he distantly recognised as belonging to Athos was keeping up a litany of nonsense in his ear, whispering apologies and promising it would be over soon.

 

“Quickly Porthos” he urged, pressing the strip of shirt he had dampened, when it was clear the larger man had his hands full and would not be doing so himself, keeping a firm hold on Aramis with the other hand.

 

“Got it” was the gruff response as Porthos awkwardly leant back in the saddle, attempting to improve the angle so he wasn’t forcing his arms to such a ridiculous position. He carefully wound the wet cloth around Aramis’ burning forehead, hissing in sympathy when the younger man jolted in surprise at the cold on his heated skin, and pulled at all of his injuries once again. Tying the ends off neatly with nimble fingers that got a lot of practice with his own bandana, he brushed sweaty hair out of the injured man’s face and on a whim fished out his water skin, supporting Aramis’ head while he took small measured sips.

 

The skin was almost empty when he pulled it away but he couldn’t let the other man have any more for fear it would upset his fragile stomach and he would throw it all up again, not only an unpleasant thought for the pain it would cause, but a dangerous one. He couldn’t afford to lose any more liquids than he was already burning off with fever.

 

“Let him down now Ath” he murmured, reaching forward to help keep him steady, as the Comte relinquished his grip on Aramis’ shoulders and let him burrow his way back into Porthos’ chest.

 

“We need to ride as fast as he is able Porthos, his wounds need treatment if we are to avoid infection and prevent the loss of life and limb. I believe there is a farmhouse about fifty lieu that way” he gestured absentmindedly over his left shoulder as he carefully draped a blanket around their injured brother, tucking it securely around him to keep out the chill. “Hopefully the inhabitants are not hostile to Musketeers and we can find some aid there. In the morning, we send D’artagnan on to Paris with a message for Treville to collect the scum, and all of this will be over and done with mon amis.”

 

Unable to speak past the lump growing in his throat, Porthos merely gave a gruff grunt, choking slightly even on that small sound.

 

Sympathy filled Athos’ stormy blue eyes and he lay a hand on the larger man’s thigh, squeezing firmly in comfort.

“Aramis is strong, we may have failed him terribly in the past week but look, you have him Porthos. He could not be any safer and now he is assured of our care – no - of our love for him, he has a reason to fight and return to us his normal devil may care self.”

 

Porthos chuckled wetly, reaching up to dash away some moisture which had collected at the side of his eyes, watching with eyes full of gratitude as Athos swung himself neatly into the saddle, and turned his horse to face D’artagnan, who had been watching the whole scene feeling wholly inadequate and biting his lip to stay silent.

 

“Since when did you get so good at motivational speeches Athos, I thought you were allergic” he teased gratefully.

 

“It seems you have been rubbing off on me” was the snarky response and D’artagnan exhaled noisily in relief at the lift in tension among the men.

 

 All four of them were safe and back together, they had a plan of action and no one would convince them that Aramis would not recover from this ordeal, they had faith in their marksman.

 

 

The mood had dropped considerably again not half an hour later. Although to the four riders it felt closer to a lifetime that they had been plodding their way through the icy wind, unable to travel faster with their wounded companion and the prisoner they were dragging along. Aramis had long since fallen silent, even fevered ramblings beyond his weakened state and Porthos was becoming more worried with every second that passed with no sound from his brother.

 

Just as he was about to call this madness to an end, demand they stop and make camp within the trees, find shelter from the wind and treat Aramis right there and then, D’artagnan’s voice echoed back to them.

 

“I see it!”

 

“Finally” Athos breathed, squinting through the gloom he was just able to make out the hazy outline of a modest cottage up ahead.

 

“I know, I was beginnin’ to think we would never find it” Porthos grinned with relief, looking to Athos who had come to a halt beside him.

 

“Athos?”

 

No reply.

 

“Athos!”

 

The colour had steadily drained from the swordsman’s face as Porthos watched, leaving him a ghastly grey shade as he swayed in his saddle. It dawned on him what was about to happen but with arms full of Aramis, he was left with no other recourse but to roar D’artagnan’s name as loudly as his dry throat would allow, and hope against hope that he caught their ailing friend in time.

 

Thankfully the young gascon had been making his way to join his friends when he had heard Porthos shout for him, intending to ask if he should ride ahead and prepare the occupants for their arrival, but instead he ended up with an armful of Athos as he slithered gracelessly from his mount.

 

Stopping him from hitting the ground did nothing to stop the aching pain in Athos’ head that was slowly growing worse, and Athos found he could only pant in abject terror as memories of the sheer agony from last time filled his mind.

 

Then the convulsions began anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys first can I just say I am so sorry for how long this has taken to get up, I have been so busy with work! Secondly I apologise if this is a little rough and ready but I really wanted to get you a new chapter since you have been waiting so long. Enjoy   
> As usual please read and review and let me know your thoughts :D


	41. Don't fight!

 

Porthos was torn.

 

His arms burned with the strain of cradling Aramis in his arms, keeping his admittedly light friend’s body up off the ground, but he could not put him down. At the same time, he ached equally to scoop Athos up off the floor, to press his head protectively against his shoulder, hold his limbs still and just hug him until the tremors wracking his body eased.

Gritting his teeth, a growl rumbled low in his throat and his hands tightened unconsciously in Aramis’ baggy shirt, which drew a whimper of protest, the fabric brushing against sensitive skin.

 

“D’artagnan” he rumbled, “quickly, put your shirt under Athos’ head, and press down on his shoulders, we don’t want him hurtin’ that hard head of his anymore”

 

With a rush of movement, the younger man had padded his mentor’s thrashing head and slender hands were squeezing his shoulders securely with a comforting grip, he was reluctant to manhandle Athos but hoped his presence would filter through this fit.

 

“P’thos?”

 

Both conscious and lucid members of the group turned their attention to the thin voice that floated weakly over to them.

 

“Aramis, what’s wrong?” Porthos murmured into the Spaniards’ curly hair.

 

“I was… about to ask you… the same thing” he chuckled weakly in between coughs, “are we there yet?”

 

“Almost, almost” he soothed, rocking slightly as he felt tears welling up in his eyes again, why could nothing ever be simple for them.

Alarmingly, Aramis’ usually tan skin had drained of all colour, leaving him tinged an unhealthy grey which screamed blood loss. If he wasn’t treated soon it would be too late for their brother, he would pass the point of no return where his body would begin to shut down, unable to replenish blood and keep organs functioning.

 

“Athos?” Aramis rasped, voice dying in his throat partway through his query.

 

“Is fine” was D’artagnan’s relieved response, meeting Porthos’ eyes and giving a terse nod.

 

It was at that moment that Athos began to show signs of life, stirring once again, but this time with more natural movements, his limbs remaining under his control. Clutching at his head he levered himself upright, grudgingly accepting the assistance that D’artagnan offered, simply lacking the energy for his usual acerbic remark that would keep people at bay. Not that this tactic was usually effective with the three nuisances that dogged his footsteps every day, no matter how cutting he was with his tongue, they stuck by him.

 

Leaning weakly against their youngest companion’s leg which he had propped up for the sole purpose of supporting the older man, whilst maintaining his dignity.

Athos outstretched an imperious hand and was immediately supplied with a water skin.

Swallowing the slightly unpleasant lukewarm water, he slowly raised an eyebrow at the charged silence between their group, feeling both sets of eyes with their concerned gazes boring into him.

 

“Problem?” he drawled, lip twitching in amused anticipation of the shocked outrage he would momentarily be facing. Although it was tempered by the marching band which had taken up residence behind his temples.

 

“I’m not gonna dignify that with a response,” Porthos’ tone was scandalised, but tinged with regret as he continued. “We will be getting to the bottom of this and having words about your lack of caring about yourself! First, do you think you’ll be able to walk the last couple o’ yards?”

 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be able?”

 

Silence reigned for all of ten seconds before D’artagnan gave a nervous laugh, warily eyeing Porthos as he fumed wordlessly, waiting for the requisite explosion that always followed Athos’ rare moments of idiocy.  

 

“Just get up before I say something I’m going to regret”

 

Numb limbs from sitting slumped on the frozen ground hampered their progress, struggling to stretch from cramped positions to standing. D’artagnan carefully hauling the older man to his feet, steadying him with a hand to the elbow before propping him precariously against Roger, hoping that he would be safe enough for the few moments he would have to leave him there. Repeatedly glancing back, the young man hauled Porthos to his feet, receiving a grateful grunt for the aid which allowed him to keep their injured friend in his arms.

 

Having gathered the reigns of their horses in one fist, he looped his other arm around Athos’ back, determinedly fixing his eyes on the cabin and staring straight ahead. If he avoided making eye contact with the older man, he could not be pierced with the death glare he was currently sporting, although blunted considerably.

 

The road before them seemed to stretch endlessly, one mile becoming one hundred as the four weary men forced one foot in front of the other in a determined and slightly wobbly march up the hill. Snow had settled on the ground in enormous mounds which may have appeared picturesque at first, but drained the energy from their bodies with each laborious step. Now, it had melted and merged with the muddy surface of the country lane to create a marshy, sludgy nightmare threatening to take their feet out from underneath them with every step.

 

Upon reaching the top of the hill, the men released a collective sigh of relief, those of them that had struggled their way up in thanks for the respite and Aramis for the end of the jostling that even the lovely Porthos was unable to prevent, despite his best efforts. The cottage that they had been aiming for was now revealed in all its crumbling glory. What once would have been a quaint little two-story farmhouse, had clearly been left to rack and ruin over the years. Red brick dust cascaded from the walls and coated the grass surrounding, the creeping ivy gouging its way through the foundations and reclaiming the structure into nature. Even the oak front door had seen better days, beginning to splinter into wood fragments around rusted hinges, strangely enough the tarnished iron doorknocker remained in one piece and D’artagnan gave it an industrious knock. Listening to it echo around the inside.

 

“I doubt anyone would be home, judging by the appearance this place has been uninhabited for years”

 

“That’s so helpful Athos, why not carry on and depress us all even further” D’artagnan bit out through gritted teeth, the strain of the day beginning to grate on him.

 

“Please, don’t… don’t fight”

 

“They aint fightin’, don’ you worry your scruffy head” Porthos murmured into his brother’s hair, levelling a venomous glare at the others, with a clear warning to knock it off.

 

“But…”

 

He hushed him gently as his frail body was wracked by coughs, pulling him a little closer to absorb the shock as he raised one booted foot and, with a resounding crash, forced his way inside.

 

Aramis clutched at the larger man’s shirt as he was jolted in his arms, the disorienting feeling of falling settling low in his stomach. There was no fear in his heart however, he knew there was no danger for him, Porthos would never let him fall. He allowed the larger man to carefully peel his fingers open and settle him carefully on the most intact bed they had located within the house, the straw mattress the thickest.

 

A soft hand rested gently atop his head,

“Rest Mis, we’ll take care of you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter sorry, but I need to get back into the flow of writing after University. Next chapter, much more comfort! As usual please read and review, your comments keep me writing :D


	42. A Doctor Please

Athos and Porthos had been getting slightly antsy, making do as best as they could with the stale water from their canteens in tending to Aramis’ wounds, waiting impatiently for the kid to return with the doctor.

 

Not that they could be certain he would even find a physician in the nearest town, as soon as they were settled they had sent the gascon on his way back to Saint Just, the residents there weren’t normally charitable towards the King’s men.

 

“Shit, Porthos he’s on fire”

 

Pressing the back of his hand carefully to their brother’s forehead, Athos was appalled by the heat rising off his skin, you could cook an egg at this rate. Aramis gave a low keening whine and pressed up into the comforting touch, chasing the chill of his brother’s skin to relieve the burning.

 

“Heads up” the other man growled and proceeded to fling a damp cloth at his head, chuckling deeply at the outraged expression on the other’s face, as water dripped slowly down his temple.

 

“Was that really necessary?” the eyebrow arched in indignation.

 

“Absolutely, your idiotic head needs coolin’ too”

 

Athos rolled his eyes in disgust and folded the cloth neatly over Aramis’ forehead, face transforming briefly into a fond smile as the man shuddered slightly, and a smile turned up the corner of his lips.

 

“You’re doin’ the face, I can’t stay mad at you when you do the face!” Porthos exclaimed in mock disappointment, beaming even as the other’s face fell back into its neutral mien.

 

The next second D’artagnan came bounding through the door with an outrageous crashing sound, almost taking it off its hinges with the force with which he swung it open.

A diminutive man in a black cloak hurried in behind him with a harried expression on his pinched face, lugging an enormous carry case behind him and moaning continuously.

 

“I told you I do not do house calls, furthermore I was in bed and I resent the audacity of you dragging me from rest and out to this godforsaken cottage in the middle of nowhere! It is beyond freezing, I can no longer feel my toes and I absolutely refuse”

 

“Was there no one else D’artagnan?” Drawing himself to his full height, which admittedly was not as impressive as Porthos but still allowed him to tower over this aggravating miser. The doctor emitted a pathetic squeak as he stared helplessly up into the thunderous face of this incredibly well spoken, well-bred man that was glaring down at him.

 

The young gascon fixed his mentor with a wounded look, still a little nervous to contemplate the puppy dog eyes considering the bloodshed that followed the last attempt. “I did my best, it’s hardly my fault the only medical professional doesn’t like helping people!”

 

At that moment, Aramis began to thrash and cry out from the bed where he had been securely tucked in amongst blankets.

“Marsac you don’t need to do this… MARSAC” a hand plunged from within the covers, reaching desperately towards a person only he could see.

“Isabelle I’m sorry, I love you… Isabelle please!”

 

In a flash, Porthos was at the smaller man’s side, grasping his questing hand in his larger one, folding it within both of his in a comforting manner. Pressing their joined hands to his chest he murmured softly to his fevered brother, “It’s okay Mis, I’m here, I’m here. Shh, it’s alright.”

Gradually the Spaniard quieted, cries becoming mumbles and thrashing reducing to tremors, until he was resting calmly once again.

 

Porthos did not move a muscle.

 

With a soft, sad sigh, Athos bent and retrieved the blankets from where they had been flung to the floor, folding them neatly over his arm and turning his head marginally to meet the doctor’s eyes.

 

“Are you willing to help, or will I have to hold you at gunpoint? It would be my pleasure, do not make the mistake of thinking I will not”

 

However, it seemed that no such excessive action would be required, the small doctor had caught a glimpse of the myriad of wounds covering Aramis’ body as Porthos began to divest him of his ripped up shirt.

 

“My goodness!” He cried in shock, rushing across the room and taking a closer look. “How on earth did this happen! The poor soul”

 

“There are men in this world who have not an ounce of honour within their bones, they feel no remorse or hesitation when causing great pain to fellow man. You are witnessing the results of such cruelty, and I would much appreciate it if you would refrain from pitying him, he deserves your respect, not pity, for enduring this ordeal”

 

The doctor nodded his head, face set in grim determination. The impassioned speech from a clearly reserved man lit a fire within him, a long dormant conscience was awoken, shaking off the cobwebs and dust to burn brightly. This was why he had fought to become a doctor in the first place, he knew the torment human hands dealt and even in the face of resistance he had travelled to Paris and studied medicine.

 

To help people, to ease pain.

 

“Right” he pushed his sleeves up in preparation, deftly lacing his operating tunic up behind his back “I’m going to need boiling water, clean linen and some strong alcohol if you have it?”

 

“We ‘ave Athos, of course we have strong alcohol” Porthos teased with relief, feeling the tension of the room lighten immediately.

 

The older man did his best to look unimpressed, but couldn’t prevent the little quirk of his lips as he rummaged in his saddlebag. He held out a bottle of his best brandy, a worthy sacrifice for his brother.

 

D’artagnan hauled a bucket of water with protesting arms, that had been heating over the fire and dropped it with a dull thud next to the doctor, who was kneeling next to the bed, careful not to dislodge Porthos.

 

“Careful” he admonished, dipping a cloth into the water and beginning to unlace Aramis’ shirt. Addressing Porthos he continued, “if your presence will keep him calm then by all means please stay, it will make my job easier, and his life less traumatic. You can do me a favour by keeping him as still as you can”

 

Porthos gave a gruff acknowledgment but kept his eyes fixed on his brother’s face, alert for any change in expression, any sign of discomfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wanted to give you guys another chapter before Christmas because you are all so fantastic! Thank you for your kind reviews, next chapter will be treatment so much much hurt comfort to come. Hopefully that will be up sometime next week :D


	43. Scarves are a man's best friend

Two hours and many bloody buckets of water later, the doctor was sweating profusely, exhausted to the point his hands were beginning to shake ever so slightly with fine tremors. His work was far from over however, after much struggle most of the wounds on Aramis’ body had been cleaned thoroughly and dressed with fresh linen, or sewn with thick black thread to piece him back together.

They had left the worst for last, in the futile hope their patient would be worn out by the ordeal and at last fall into blessed unconsciousness, allowing them to get on with treatment without worrying about holding him still.

 

Porthos, who was hoping his friend would be spared this latest torment, was extremely tempted to employ the same method his friends utilised so they could get near him to stitch him up without being cracked in the shins as he fought to get away. One look at the injured man’s pupils told him to shelf that idea, dismissing it as a very bad one, his left eye consisting almost entirely of pupil. He remembered enough from Aramis’ lectures on medicine to know that hitting a clearly concussed man in the head again, was just asking for trouble.

 

Turning to the doctor who was sat at the end of the bed massaging aching hands, he passed him a cup of water. “How’s it looking?”

 

Heaving a mournful sigh, he shook his head “not good, not good. His feet are a mess, they obviously smacked him with some kind of blunt instrument repeatedly on the soles.” a sympathetic grimace stole across Porthos’ face as he continued.

“It’s these cuts that are causing me concern” the doctor gently traced along the slits that carved through the skin of Aramis’ feet, “they’re already infected and beginning to heal, trapping the infection inside. Matters weren’t helped any by him walking on them, he’s got lots of small scratches and is caked in dirt.”

He met Porthos’ eyes and gave a grim smile “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, because I know you are all soldiers and no strangers to pain. The skin needs to be reopened and the infection drained, you will need to hold him down or I risk causing more damage.”

 

Athos loomed silently over the doctor’s shoulder, paling alarmingly at the sight of his brother’s mangled feet. “Do you have anything for his pain?” he inquired, barely a wobble in his voice despite how clearly his upset was displayed in his clenched fists.

 

“Unfortunately not, if you’d look here” grasping Aramis’ arm he rotated it gently to expose his inner elbow, pointing carefully, “do you see this pinprick here? He has been injected with some substance but as I cannot find out what exactly that was, I can’t take the risk of giving him a tonic that could react badly.”

 

“Pop… Poppy milk”

 

All heads snapped up to meet hazy brown eyes as they stared tiredly at the three clustered around the foot of the bed. Athos pinched the bridge of his noise in frustration, it seemed his captors had tried every method to incapacitate their brother, not only that but to prevent any possible relief.

 

“Are you certain son?”

 

“Positive” Aramis rasped, slightly more lucid than moments previously, “and please call me Aramis”

 

“He likes to be polite” Athos snorted quietly from beside the doctor who gave a small bemused smile before addressing his now conscious patient.

 

“Well Aramis, as I have told these fine gentleman already, your feet are beginning to turn septic and need draining.”

 

“I understand, if you had a piece of cloth I would be much obliged” Aramis managed to breathe out shakily.

 

It was so typical of their marksman to be aggravatingly blasé about everything, and Athos rolled his eyes in well learned frustration. In two steps, he was perched on the edge of the narrow, rickety wooden bedframe and yanked his trademark scarf from his neck in one fluid motion. In seconds, he had meticulously folded the strip of fabric in crisp lines which he then placed tenderly between his brother’s teeth. Cupping the back of his sweaty neck he pressed their foreheads together, “you idiot” he chuckled softly, smoothing back his hair. “You know you just have to ask and we’ll be right here with you. I promise.” Slipping his hand into the smaller man’s, he squeezed tightly and motioned for the doctor to begin.

 

An agonised cry was torn from the injured man’s throat at the medic’s ministrations, more of a guttural choked off scream that was muffled by Athos’ scarf. Whose owner was now wincing in pain himself, for Aramis had a grip on his hand that felt almost like it was being crushed between two concrete blocks. However he grit his teeth and squeezed back with equal force, determined to let his brother know that he would always be there for him, he would help him cope and never again would he abandon him, let him down like he had a week ago.

 

Thankfully the doctor moved quickly and more of Aramis’ tan skin was covered in blindingly white linen strips which immediately began spotting with blood. Easing the bandana from between his friends lips, Athos chuckled at the deep teeth marks embedded in the fabric, waving it teasingly before tired brown eyes. “You owe me a new scarf”

 

“If we ever reach civilisation alive” Aramis whispered, giving Athos’ hand another squeeze where it was still encasing his “then I will buy you as many scarves as you desire”

 

“I’ll hold you to that” the usually dour man smiled warmly in response.

 

“Porthos?” Aramis asked with a hint of a smile to his voice, “are you crying?”

 

“You two are just too damn adorable when you get all mushy like that” the larger man sniffled from the corner where he had retreated to assist the doctor.

 

“You’re one to talk, calling us mushy” the other men laughed.

 

“Sleep now Aramis” was Athos’ stern instructions as he tucked the blankets securely around the other man’s thin form “you need to get your strength back and sleep off that damn drug if we’re to leave for Paris anytime soon”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how bitty this is, just a chapter to tide you over while I try and sort out how this story is going to proceed! Hopefully another chapter soon :D


	44. Chapter 44

Aramis was slow to regain consciousness the next morning, eyelids seeming unwilling to cooperate and he wondered if someone had attached weights to them whilst he was sleeping, he wouldn’t put it past Athos if he thought he needed more sleep.

Logically, his brain knew that it was the last remnants of the poppy milk still contaminating his bloodstream that held his eyes shut and his brain on the very edge of consciousness, trapping his mind in that awful inbetween space where he could hear his friends’ voices and feel the rough scrape of blanket against his hand, but was unable to fully wake up.

 

A warm hand grasped his own where it lay limply atop the bedclothes, squeezing gently.

 

“Aramis” a voice called calmly, “open your eyes, come on. You can do it” they coaxed

 

Another voice rang clear in the room, a more robust and booming tone who addressed the first speaker.

 

“How do you know he can hear you? He’s been out of it for two days with no sign of life and now suddenly you’re harassing him”

 

“His eyes were moving beneath his eyelids and I saw his fingers twitching” the first speaker responded calmly, giving Aramis’ hand another squeeze.

 

It felt like someone had stuffed his head full of wool, straight from the back of a sheep, brain struggling to function around the thickness. The voices were achingly familiar but as much as he searched within the quagmire of his brain, he couldn’t find names or faces to put with them, they remained mysterious shadowy figures that hovered at the very edges of his vision.

 

“Fight Aramis” the first voice whispered, voice low directly in his ear and Aramis’ body shivered involuntarily at the tickly sensation of hot breath brushing against his ear.

 

The words stoked the embers that were struggling for life within his heart into a blazing inferno. The thick syrupy like substance that seemed to be encasing him thinned ever so slightly as he began to struggle in earnest against it, desiring to return to life for the first time.

Although he couldn’t quite remember who the voice belonged to, the tinge of sadness, desperation and… love spoke to him, whoever this person was they cared for him and he didn’t want to hear anyone suffer like that.

 

“Look, you big oaf” Athos exclaimed, gesturing towards the bed “I told you he was waking up”

 

Aramis fought a valiant battle against the glue that was holding his eyelids shut, succeeding in prising them apart a crack and blinding himself with a flash of light too bright for his tender eyeballs. He moaned pitifully, trying and failing to drag the dead weight of his limbs up to protect himself from the light, rewarded only by the mysterious stranger squeezing his hand once again and murmuring words of encouragement.

 

Bolstered by this, Aramis tried again, each time managing to prise them open a little further before they watered too much and fell shut again.

Finally, he won the battle with his body, and his eyes remained open to the world before him.

 

Two men were sat at his bedside, observing him with sheer joy written on their faces, although it was only evident in subtle ways on the face of the second man. On Athos’ face, his brain supplied helpfully, and memories came flooding back.

 

“At… hos” he opened his mouth to greet his friend but merely croaked in an undignified manner, throat closing up around his words at the lack of moisture. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought he spent his weekend gargling with sand, or eating Constance’s rock cakes bless her heart.

 

The smooth wooden rim of a cup was pressed to his lips, Athos’ cradling the back of his head in one hand to raise him carefully off the pillows. The cold water wetting his lips was like heaven, coating his dry throat like honey and made him feel like he was a man lost in the desert who had just been provided with water to save his life.

 

Clearing his throat carefully, for it was still a little sore, he thanked Athos for his care.

 

“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you’re conscious enough to drink finally.”

 

“How long was I out?”

 

“About two and a half days” Porthos supplied, moving to sit on the end of the bed by his friend’s feet, careful not to brush the healing appendages. “Gave us all a right fright when you wouldn’t wake up, and that fever you had was fierce”

 

“Infection?” he asked with resignation

 

“Got it in one” Athos nodded, standing and beginning to unwind the bandages wrapped securely about his brother’s feet “you’re lucky both of these are still here, it was touch and go for a while but they’re healing nicely now”

 

Prodding gently at the abused flesh Athos nodded to himself in satisfaction at what he saw, deciding to leave Aramis’ feet open to the air for now to allow for further healing.

 

“Do we not need to return to the Garrison soon?” Aramis asked, gaze moving from one friend to the other.

 

“I sent a despatch to Treville a couple of days ago to inform him we would be delayed so there is no hurry, but I feel we would all be better for being back in Paris”

 

“You need to eat something and then we want to be making our way home, you’ll sleep better in your own bed. Plus, the whelp’s already getting the horses ready as we speak” Porthos put in, patting his friend on the leg.

 

Not long afterwards, Aramis had downed a bowl of thin broth, putting an end to the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach, but unfortunately setting off waves of nausea that threatened to bring all he’d eaten back up again.

With supreme effort, he managed to keep control over his rebellious stomach, waving off his friends’ concerns over his rapidly paling face.

 

Finally, the four men reunited outside the inn, Aramis’ arm slung securely over Porthos’ shoulder and Porthos’ arm snaked around his waist for support. D’artagnan held the reigns to all four horses, a broad grin stretching across his face as he waved jauntily at Aramis in greeting.

  
“Good to see you up lazybones” he exclaimed cheerfully, “now who are you riding with?”

 

Aramis scoffed, an affronted look on his face at the suggestion he couldn’t ride by himself. Although, he was given no option but to admit he was too weak to keep himself on a horse, when Porthos released him and he promptly crashed to his knees, unable to support his weight on his damaged feet.

 

Athos directed a scathing glare at Porthos who merely shrugged in response, a cheeky grin on his face as the older man scooped Aramis off the floor and heaved him up onto Roger. Swinging himself up into the saddle behind his brother, he wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him securely against him, and soon the group was riding off down the narrow country lanes towards Paris.

 

 A peaceful atmosphere settled over the men as they travelled, happy to be all together and relatively in one peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to get this to you guys! Hope you like it :D


	45. Chapter 45

Treville was beginning to lose his patience.

 

He liked to think of himself as a reasonable man, one who would put up with much from his men as long as it was reasonable and they were fulfilling their duties. Those who knew him would hesitantly agree with this description of his character, for the Captain of the King’s Musketeers could be a harsh taskmaster indeed, and most unforgiving of soldiers who were in any way lax in their duties.

Asides from the select few of course. The inseparables were a different case altogether.   


None other than Athos could get away with questioning Treville’s orders, discussing sensitive details with the older man and even being given free reign to do what he thought right, as long as Treville was not implicated.

Only Porthos could beat Red Guards to a pulp after being accused of cheating at cards and be let off with stable duty.

Most of all, if any other man had even thought of getting up to half of the antics Aramis had perpetuated throughout his years, they would have faced the whip!

And that was all without mentioning D’artagnan and his manner of snowballing his way into their ranks.

 

But to put it plainly, Treville was fuming.

 

He was moments away from erupting in a storm of enthused expletives, involving his four missing men and some rather impolite statements regarding the status of their births.

Whirling around in a fury, he swung his fist violently towards the beam nearest the door to his office and let out a primal shout of rage. Thankfully, he pulled his punch before making contact otherwise he would be out of action with bruised knuckles or worse, and he could only imagine what the King and Cardinal would have to say about that.

 

One of his men, whom he held as close to his heart as the son he resigned himself to never having, was missing. Such was the sacrifice a soldier made to reach a high position such as the one he held, his situation however was compounded by his personal relationship with the Royal family. He had been riding with the young Louis at the back of the procession in Paris, when King Henry IV was murdered in broad daylight in the middle of the bustling streets, he lived with the guilt everyday. If only he had spotted the flash of the blade in the crowd, the darting eyes of someone nervously awaiting discovery for a crime they have yet to commit, most of all he wished he had not lost the perpetrator in the midst of all the Parisians who had flocked to see the Queen’s coronation.

 

In his dreams he still saw the flash of crimson melting into a maelstrom of colour, the pain in his chest as he watched a man he respected and cared for callously murdered before his eyes still struck him from time to time. As the screaming had started, little Louis had seized his doublet from behind and buried his face in it, crying desperately in fear, great hiccoughing sobs that wracked his entire body. The warm weight of his small, fragile body ignited a spark within him like the striking of a flint in the darkness and he knew then immediately what he had to do.

In that instance, he had thrown propriety to the wind and whirled on one booted heel, enveloping the child in a warm hug, one calloused hand cupping his head, fingers threaded in the dark curls and asserting pressure to keep him there.

 

“Don’t look, don’t look” he murmured soothingly, casting his eyes around the square in concern, observing the hysteria, but it seemed as if they were in their own little bubble of calm, the eye of the storm as it were. “it will all be alright, Louis, I will take care of you”

 

Now, fifteen years later, Treville was still keeping that promise, protecting his King  with his life no matter what. But it wasn’t easy, it had taken its toll on him, evident in his greying hair and salt and pepper beard, each one he attributed to the King’s and his men’s antics causing him no end of stress.

 

This entire situation now was case in point. His four best had returned at odds, one severely injured and neglected, his eccentric monarch had sent them all on a woodland retreat away from his observation and remit of control and now they had been injured, attacked, kidnapped and delayed all in a matter of days!

To top it all off, not a single word had been heard from them since Athos had jotted out a missive letting him know that they had retrieved Aramis, not that he had been aware they were missing him in the first place, and were making their way home soon, but they had yet to arrive and there was no correspondence in Athos’ hastily scrawled cursive to let him know why.

 

He was this close, this close to tearing his hair out.

 

“I’m going to retire” he murmured in a bemused daze, “I can’t cope with all this stress, I control madmen and it’s going to kill me”

 

He jolted in surprise as a hand landed heavily on his shoulder, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Serge who had stumped up behind him on his gammy leg, without him noticing to somehow catch him off guard. “Now Captain, it aint all that bad” he grinned, “and your boys are back now”

 

True enough, now it had been pointed out to him, and he had been dragged from his brooding by the old veteran, his ears picked out the familiar and welcome sound of a horses hooves on the Garrison’s cobbles.

 

A sound he had been yearning to hear for hours now, his boys were back.   


Rushing down the stairs, he tried his best to remain collected and not appear as if he were running to greet them like some lovesick damsel whose beau had just returned to sweep her of her feet. He reached the ground with a satisfying click of his boot heels and was facing the Garrison gates just as the Inseperables were getting ready to dismount.

 

“Athos” he called out, keeping his voice firm and business like but unable to hide the gruff undertone from those who knew him best “a little warning would have been nice”

 

 

“Apologies Captain but my hands were otherwise occupied and errand boys hard to come by”

 

Porthos chuckled and slapped Athos on the thigh where he now stood beside his horse, having dismounted and walked over whilst they were talking and preparing to catch Aramis.

 

“Now you know that aint true Ath, we have an errand boy with us permanently, you should have sent Dart”

 

Watching the boisterous man jerk a thumb over his shoulder at a rather disgruntled looking Gascon, Treville felt something settle in his heart that he hadn’t realised was out of place until that very moment. He was content having his sons back where he could see them, where he could take care of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay, here’s another chapter! Thank you everyone for your continued support, hopefully the next one will be up soon too. Please let me know what you think :D


	46. Chapter 46

The weather took a turn for the worse as they stood in the Garrison courtyard before their Captain and an unwilling shiver took over Aramis’ body, the cold draft worming its way into all the gaps between his uniform where the well-worn leather was pulling away from his shirt.

 

The shudder that had started off minor gradually grew more and more severe, the feeling of cold spreading inexorably, almost as if ice were forming a freezing shell around his body and numbing all his senses. So much so that he could no longer feel the fingers that were wrapped firmly in Athos’ doublet, nor the smooth leather he clutched.

 

Athos couldn’t help the feeling of alarm that speared through him as he felt the violent shuddering of his brother whom he had clutched tightly to his chest. Whilst a cool breeze was brushing its icy fingers against the back of his neck, he was protected from its true frigidity by the scarf that was perpetually wound around his neck.

 

Clenching his teeth into the supple leather of his gloves at the very tips of his fingers, Athos hurriedly tugged his hands free of their warmth and clapped it instead over his brother’s forehead.

 

The taciturn man, for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few days, swore vehemently and narrowed his eyes in frustration.

 

“Porthos come” he barked out sharply, dragging his attention away from where he stood talking with Treville and teasing their young gascon companion.

 

The attention of all standing in the courtyard was drawn like magnets to the striking man still sat bolt upright on the back of his horse. Treville was cursing himself within his mind for once more having missed, nay ignored, the state of his men as they came tumbling back through his doorway and into his arms.

 

“What is it Athos?” Porthos and Treville asked in sync, exchanging a small and reluctantly amused glance with one another.

 

“We must get Aramis inside” he murmured in response, shifting his too light brother in his arms “it may not seem cold out here to us but he is freezing”

 

A flurry of movement burst out in the courtyard, men rushing to and fro, plying Athos and the others with blankets, yanking and propping open doors en route to their brother’s rooms and tugging away their steeds to the stables.

 

A rush of gratified warmth flared in Athos’ chest, one he was unaccustomed to feeling for any but those brothers closest to him, at the selfless actions of the Musketeers and all those who worked in the Garrison. Most of all it hammered home exactly how beloved their wounded brother was by all of these people, his kind heart having reached out to all he saw, whether they were suffering or not, giving them his warm smile and extending his all to help others.

 

Aramis was barely conscious as they tipped him from Athos’ arms into the waiting blanket draped over Porthos outspread arms. Feeling himself falling with a sickening sense of vertigo and weightlessness, he whimpered pathetically and tightened the grip of his frozen fingers on his brother’s clothing.

 

Guilt was the overriding emotion in Athos’ heart as he gently pried his doublet free from the sadly weak grip, giving those chilled fingers a comforting squeeze.

 

“S’alright, you aint fallin’ you silly sod” Porthos chided gently, adjusting one arm around the slight man’s shoulders and the other under the bend of his bony knees. “I got you and would _I_ ever let you fall?”

 

While tired of seeming weak and being carted unceremoniously from place to place, Aramis was painfully aware of the harsh reality. As he was now, there was no way his legs would support him even for the couple of seconds it took to stand, let alone cope with even his minimal body weight. It would be a briefly lived moment of uprightness and a rapid reaccuaintance with the floor that would be as painful as it was humiliating.

 

Mustering as cheeky a grin as possible, he slapped Porthos on the chest with what little reach he had, narrowly missing his own face where he had instinctively curled into the body heat the bigger man offered.

 

“You have been known to be a little butterfingered my friend, I do recall the first few times I called on you to rescue me from a mistress’ window, you failed to catch me. So yes, I do believe you would, and have, let me fall”

 

Faking an insulted scoff, Porthos’ long strides took them swiftly across the courtyard and all four men were halfway up the stairs before Aramis had even registered that they had moved.

 

Deciding against the infirmary, Porthos unceremoniously kicked the door to Aramis’ room open with one foot and carefully manoeuvred through the narrow doorway, wanting to avoid smacking any body parts into the hardwood door frame. He lay Aramis gently onto his bed, propping his sore feet on top of a pillow.

 

Before he had a chance to drape a blanket over his brother’s chilled form a strong hand landed on his shoulder and frightened the living daylight out of him, although if asked he would deny the very unmanly squeak that issued from his lips. Although D’artagnan smirked and mentally tucked that one away as ammunition for future use when the larger man took all his earnings in a card game.

 

“Let me” Treville murmured, using his grip on Porthos to gently move the other man from his path, taking his place at the bedside.

“Ah Captain” a hitch in his breathing the only giveaway to his pounding heart, “didn’t realise you had followed us up here”

 

“I had to make sure you walking disasters didn’t get into anymore trouble didn’t I” his face softened as his gaze fell upon Aramis whose eyelids had fallen shut within moments of his head hitting the pillow. “And I promised I wouldn’t leave this one to suffer alone again.”

 

He tucked the blanket securely around his shoulders, brushing strands of hair from his forehead and collapsing into a chair beside the bed. Gripping Aramis’ hand firmly he turned to the other men in the room and asked them to give their report of what exactly had happened to keep four of his best out of contact for so long.

 

Before they could even begin to explain, a stable boy came running into the room in a panic. His eyes were wild, whites showing and limbs trembling like a nervous horse.

 

“Captain Treville!” he cried, knees threatening to buckle and almost collapsing before the superior officer, “someone has attacked the palace. They are holding the King and Queen at gunpoint and demanding that you bring the man named Aramis to him.’

 

“Damnit” Athos yelled in a rare fit of unbridled anger and frustration, slamming his hand flat against the door, “can we not have a single minute of peace!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, who do you think it is attacking the King and Queen! :D It’s all kicking off now, I’m trying to round everything off now as we come to the end of this story, only a few more chapters to go now. Thank you so much for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this chapter :D


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